


“you are everything I want, cause you are everything I’m not”

by queenhomeslice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Gladiolus Amicitia, Bottom Noctis Lucis Caelum, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Gladio and Noctis kinda cry a lot in this I'm so sorry, M/M, Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Promnis - Freeform, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Top Gladiolus Amicitia, Top Noctis Lucis Caelum, alternate Lucian history I guess, gladnoct - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: On Gladio's 21st birthday, he learns of an old tradition between Lucian royalty and their shields.
Relationships: Clarus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 230
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.  
> _____  
> title from Taking Back Sunday's "MakeDamnSure"  
> _____  
> Will update tags and etc. as more chapters are added!
> 
> Update 7/05: I changed the timeline and ages because fuck it

_The overhead lights are off in_ _Noct’s_ _bedroom, the furniture and nerdy trinkets illuminated in stark resolution only by soft lamplight on the bedside tables, and the drawn-back curtains of the wide-open window that show the glittering_ _Insomnian_ _skyline on full display. Gladiolus_ _Amicitia_ _is on his knees beside the prince’s bed, breathing even and calm. He’s stripped down to just black boxer-briefs, the rest of his clothes folded neatly on the bed._ _Noct’s_ _birthday was two days ago, and his dad told him to be ready for tonight, mentally and physically. He shivers in the cool air of the empty apartment, anticipation creeping up on him like the slow and steady beat of a song. He hopes Noctis doesn’t hate him for this, for this tradition. And he completely understands if the prince doesn’t even want to do this at all. But, oh gods,_ _Gladio_ hopes _so. He hopes that Noctis wants him; after all, he was born and bred to serve, wasn’t he? He’s nothing without Noctis Lucis Caelum._

____________

It’s not often that Clarus Amicitia is home at the Amicitia family mansion, but it does happen on occasion. Specifically, _this_ special occasion—Gladio's birthday. He turned 21 today, and after several adventures during the day with Noctis, Ignis, and Prompto, he’s at home eating dinner with Iris and his dad. Nyx Ulric had volunteered to stay with Regis overnight at the Citadel, even though the king had balked and said that he could take care of himself for one night, thank you very much—but Clarus Amicitia won, in the end, and so Nyx is babysitting his majesty while he’s at home with his children. 

“So, Gladdy, how’s it feel to be super old?” teases Iris. 

“Great,” says Gladio, slowly sipping an ice-cold beer—definitely not his first one today, but there’s something more relaxed about drinking at home, he thinks. “Means I have even more authority over you now, brat.” 

Iris puffs out her cheeks and proceeds to stuff them with more lasagna. 

Clarus chuckles and shakes his head. He misses his kids, and he wishes their mother were still here. They’ve had to grow up fast, with one dead parent and one largely absent one, spending more time at the Citadel than probably any other kid except for Noct himself, and Ignis Scientia. He sighs, staring at his empty plate. Gladio is still eating, bantering with Iris about her longtime teenage crush on Noctis, making her flustered and teary-eyed. 

“Iris,” says Clarus without making eye contact with his daughter. “It’s late. Time for bed. School tomorrow.” 

“No fair, it’s Gladdy’s birthday, aren’t we gonna have cake?” 

Gladio looks up at his dad. “You guys got me a cake?” 

Clarus smiles softly. “Well...yeah, actually we did.” He looks at his son, then Iris. “ _One_ piece,” he says, pointing his finger, “and then bedtime. There’s something I need to talk about with your brother.” 

Iris pouts for a moment but the excitement about dessert takes over and she rushes into the kitchen, rustling around in the fridge for the modest chocolate cake. She brings it in a few minutes later, lit with candles in the shape of a _2_ and a _1_ , singing. Clarus joins in and Iris sets the cake down in front of Gladio. He grins big and blows out the candles. 

“So,” Gladio says. “What didja have to say?” 

Father and son are seated in Clarus’ private study, after he ensured that Iris was safely in her room and away from the current conversation. Clarus wanted her to keep her dignity and innocence for just a little while longer. He exhales slowly, and looks at his son. Gladio is the perfect specimen of masculinity by a lot of people’s standards—tall, muscular, perfectly proportioned, handsome. Clarus has no doubt that his son will excel in his job as the shield of the next Lucian king, whenever Regis passes on and Noctis assumes the throne. And while he’s not privy to his son’s sex life, it wouldn’t surprise him if Gladio already has a body count...he just hopes that he’s been safe. He sighs again. This sort of thing has never been easy for him to talk about, even though he had to walk Gladio through the awkward stages of puberty; Clarus doesn’t even want to think about the day when Iris comes asking about the birds and the bees. He secretly hopes that she’s already had sex ed at school and that she’ll spare him the crushing awkwardness. 

He clears his throat. “There’s an old Lucian tradition,” he begins. “Uh, between...between royalty, and their shield.” 

Gladio’s eyes widen. He thought he knew everything about the job he’d been bred for his whole life. A tradition between shields and their kings? He scoots further to edge of the chair, large hands resting on his knees. “Yeah?” he asks. “What is it?” 

Clarus looks up, silently praying that maybe Ramuh will just strike him down with magic lightning right now so he doesn’t have to explain this. He shakes his head. He’s many things, but a coward isn’t one of them. He made it through the _Your body is changing_ talk—he can make it through this. Somehow. 

“An old Lucian tradition,” he continues. “A special ceremony that solidifies the bond between the king or queen, and their shield, to show utter devotion and loyalty.” 

Gladio nods. He’d do anything for Noctis. “Okay,” he says. “What is this ‘special ceremony’?” 

Clarus swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “The Lucian royalty...uh. They...dominate their shield. Physically.” 

Gladio cocks his head and lifts an eyebrow. “Physically dominates, like...what? Like a fight?” 

Clarus rubs his eyes. “No, son. I mean...shit. They dominate them...in the bed.” 

“Physically. In the bed,” Gladio repeats. 

Clarus can see the gears turning in his poor son’s confused brain. 

Suddenly, realization blooms on his face. “You mean, the shield...the shield submits to the Lucian royal...sexually?” 

Clarus blows air from his nose and nods. “Yeah.” 

“I have sex with Noctis.” 

“Correct.” 

“He’s the top.” 

“Yep.” 

“Huh.” Gladio thinks for a moment, leans back in the chair and folds his long arms over his broad chest. His hoodie stretches with the effort. “Does Noctis know about this?” 

“I...I don’t know, son. I don’t know if Reggie’s told him or not, or if the Scientia boy has. He’s gotta learn eventually, if he doesn’t know already.” 

“But what if...he doesn’t want to do it?” 

Clarus sighs. “There was one or two instances, and I mean, a couple hundred years ago, but for the most part...it’s typically done.” There’s a long pause, because this has opened a huge can of worms. 

“King Regis has fucked you.” 

Clarus rolls his eyes. “You can be less crass about it, Gladiolus. But yes.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

Clarus doesn’t have the nerve to tell him that they never stopped at just the once, even after he was married with kids. He’ll let Gladio draw his own conclusions, if he wants to. Clarus shakes his head. “Not with the proper preparations. It can be...uncomfortable, at first, but if it’s done right, it’s not painful.” 

“He still fuckin’ you?” 

_There it is._ “That’s all I had to say.” Clarus rises from the adjacent chair. 

“Dad.” 

He sighs, turns back to his son—but there’s no malice or crude dudebro humor in his amber gaze. His shoulders drop. “I love the king very much. I don’t exist without him. That hasn’t changed in the last several decades.” 

“Did mom know?” 

Clarus nods. “Of course she did.” 

“Was she mad?” 

Clarus shakes his head. “Not particularly. My loved for Regis never overshadowed my love for her, or vice versa. After a while you learn to compartmentalize things in your heart.” 

Gladio stares at him, trying to come to terms with these new revelations. “You sure it doesn’t hurt?” 

Clarus shakes his head. “I told you, not if it’s done right. Not if you’re adequately prepped.” He places his hand on Gladio’s shoulder. “Do you love Noctis?” 

Gladio lets out a shaky breath and nods—Clarus can see tears starting to form at the edges of his eyes. “More than you can possibly imagine.” 

“Then you’re going to do fine.” Clarus smiles at his son. “I’m so proud of you, Gladio. I know you’re going to be a valiant shield for the line of Lucis.” 

“Dad, should I wait for him to approach me about this, or...?” 

Clarus thinks for a second. “I’ll pull Regis aside tomorrow and ask him, and I’ll let you know. Typically, a shield waits for his liege to make the first move.” 

“So I just sit with this until Noct says somethin’?” Gladio looks positively tortured. 

Clarus frowns. “Unfortunately, yes, son. A test of patience and devotion.” 

He nods, exhaling slowly. “I can do it.” 

“Of course you can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated explicit for future chapters


	2. Chapter 2

_I can’t do this,_ Gladio thinks as he trains with Noctis the next week. Their swords clash sharply, sparks flying as their steel collides, both of them grunting and sweating, heaving chests with labored breaths, sweat-slicked skin and messy hair and red cheeks. Ever since his dad told him about “the tradition,” Gladio can’t stop thinking about what Noctis is like in bed. Is he noisy and needy, or quiet and aloof like he is in daily life? Is the prince well-endowed, like he himself is, or...? Gladio’s manhood was always something he was proud of, but he’d actually be upset if Noctis felt...inadequate. Gladio loves the prince regardless of cock size, he decides, and figures he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. The more Gladio thinks about Noct’s kind heart, the way he smiles, the way his shorter body has definitely begun to fill out over the last couple of years, the more in love (and lust) with the prince he falls. 

Abruptly, he’s brought out of his reverie by landing squarely on his ass on the training mat, broadsword clattering to the side. He blinks at the sword, then up at Noctis. 

The prince’s dark blue eyes are shining bright, and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, pointing his engine blade right in Gladio’s face. “You got distracted, Gladio,” throwing the shield’s words back at him. Gods know how many times Gladio’s lectured him about keeping a clear head during training. 

All he can do is stare at Noct’s face, soft black hair hanging low on his sweaty brow, eyes fierce. He eyes a bead of sweat as it rolls down Noct’s chin, meanders down his Adam’s apple, and disappears inside of his shirt collar. Gladio licks his lips. Noctis looks ten feet tall right now, and too gorgeous for words. “Uh,” he says smoothly. “You’re right. Sorry.” Gladio coughs. 

Noctis reels the sword back and extends his hand. Gladio lifts an eyebrow but allows Noctis to clasp his forearm and pull him, with surprising ease, to his feet. He stares down at Noct in shock now that he’s upright again. 

“Didn’t expect that,” Gladio mutters, face hot. He’s so glad he’s wearing a cup right now, because he can feel himself getting hard. 

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Noctis chuckles darkly and stares Gladio in the face. 

Gladio gulps and wonders if it’s a double entendre. Does Noctis know? Is he flirting with him? Has Noctis been flirting with him for years and he never noticed? 

The prince backs up and settles into his stance, blowing his bangs from his eyes. “C’mon, ‘nother round. I’m gettin' tired.” 

Gladio snorts, the laziness dulling the prince’s appeal slightly, but not too much. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, princess. You got a lot of catchin’ up to do if you’re keeping score on whose ass is hitting the floor.” 

Noctis lifts his chin and puffs out his chest. _Damn, I could look at his jawline for hours_ , he thinks, as Noct says, “Bring it on, big guy.” 

“Do I know about what?” Ignis says. 

Gladio is with Ignis a few days later at the Citadel, and they’re on their way to Cor’s office to meet with some glaives about additional special training. 

“The, uh. The tradition,” Gladio whispers, not wanting prying ears to hear their conversation. 

“What tradition?” asks Ignis as they hop onto a (thankfully) empty elevator. 

The door slides shut, and Gladio pushes the button for Cor’s floor and holds it down like he’s suffocating it. “The tradition, Iggy,” he growls. “Between the king and his shield.” 

Ignis stares at him for a moment before his eyes widen. “Ah,” he says, clicking his tongue. “That one. Yes, well, I’ve read about it.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” 

“You never asked, dearest Gladiolus.” 

“Cut the crap, Iggy.” 

“Well, at any rate, you’re obviously aware now, aren’t you?” 

“Well, yeah, my dad dropped that anvil on my head on my fuckin’ _birthday_.” 

“You seem upset about it. I can assure you that’s a completely natural response.” 

Gladio stops. “What? No, I’m not...I’m not upset, I just...” He bites his lip and looks away. 

Ignis just hums, the little shit. “I didn’t think so. You do look at Noctis like he hung the moon.” 

Gladio whips his head. “No I don’t!” 

“Okay.” He shrugs. 

Gladio panics and yanks his hand off the button. “Ignis! I do _not_! You’re just saying that because you think you’re so smart.” 

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” 

Gladio grits his teeth. “Am I...super obvious about it?” 

Ignis purses his lips. “I shouldn’t think so, probably not to anyone who’s less observant than I am.” 

Gladio lets out a breath. “That’s good, I guess. I think.” 

Ignis pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry your big meathead brain about it, Gladio. I’m sure Noctis likes you back just as well. Your coupling is bound to be splendid, and full of mutual admiration.” 

“You’re talking like we’re a documentary on the nature channel,” he gruffs. 

Ignis shrugs again. “Speaking about coitus shouldn’t be such a taboo subject, Gladio. Or is it because you do not think that you will be respected if people know you’ve been taken by another man?” 

Gladio just stares. How can Ignis talk about this stuff so casually? “That’s not—I don’t--I don’t know.” 

“Do you think differently of your dad, or the king, now that you are privy to this information?” 

Gladio thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Regis and my dad are two of the strongest people that I know.” 

Ignis nods. “And worthy of respect from anyone with even an ounce of common sense. What goes on between a king and his shield is no one’s business but their own. Your duty is to keep Noctis safe, your life is tied to his...and bollocks to anyone else.” He smiles. 

Gladio nods and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

The elevator dings their floor, and the silver doors slide open. 

Later that night, once Ignis has helped Noctis clean his apartment and has cooked meals for the prince to keep ready-made in his fridge, he sits at the kitchen table with his own laptop and several notebooks’ worth of Citadel reports and documents. The prince wanders to the couch and slumps against it. 

“Hey Specs.” 

“Yes, Highness?” 

Noctis grunts at the title but continues. “Do you think...ah this is stupid. Nevermind.” 

“What is it, Noct?” Ignis’ voice softens at the prince’s obvious distress. “You know you can speak with me about anything.” 

“I know.” A beat. “DoyouthinkGladiolikesme,” he says all in one breath. 

The words hang in the air like a thick fog. Ignis stares at the fluffy black hair poking over the top of the couch. He sighs. “It’s not my place to become involved in such personal matters, Noctis.” 

“I’m not asking you to be involved. I just asked...” He turns his head. “Wait a minute. You _know_ something.” 

Ignis can feel his cheeks burn and his eyes dart back to the computer screen. “I can assure you, I do not. And even if I did, I refuse to play gopher between you and Gladiolus.” 

“You’re not being fair,” Noctis whines. 

“A fair comes once a year, with rides, your Highness,” Ignis deadpans, peering at the spreadsheet and entering numbers. 

“Cheeky,” murmurs Noctis, but he lets it go. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ The throne room is empty, save for the two glaives flanking either side of the grand staircase that leads up to the throne. Noctis is dressed in crisp black royal raiment, complete with golden epaulettes, a cape, and a metal brace for his knee. He sits sprawled on the giant chair, one leg crossed over the other, head resting on one hand, other arm draped lazily over the side. He looks bored, like a petulant child whose nanny isn’t paying him enough attention. His stormy blue eyes are sharp, though, every now and then flickering red—a testament to the divine magic that’s thrumming through his veins. _

_ Gladio sits at the feet of his prince—king?—wearing nothing but a velvet black collar with an attached rope, the latter being draped casually over Noct’s knees. He faces Noctis, back to the wide, elegant throne room. His cock is half hard, has been for what seems like hours, but he sits on his knees with his hands clasped behind his back, head bowed. _

_ “Gladio.” _

_ The shield’s entire body thrums with the husky tone of his liege. He licks his lips, nodding. “Sir,” he says quietly. _

_ “Look at me.” _

_ As if Gladio has a choice not to obey. He flicks his gaze up to the Lucian royal, eyes widening in awe at the suit, at Noct’s face. He can’t help but fall in love ten times over. “You’re so beautiful,” Gladio finds himself growling. His cock bobs with interest—it’s so hard to keep his composure around someone so gorgeous, so powerful. Gladio might tower over him in size, but Noctis carries himself with an otherworldly air. One could meet him on the street, in plain clothes, and know instantly that he was in a league of his own. _

_ Noctis smirks and nods. “Could say the same about you.” _

_ Gladio licks his lips. This is his liege, his life—and he’s getting complimented? It’s more than he deserves. He shakes his head. “I’m happy that my body pleases you.” It’s true—everything Gladio is, it’s because of Noctis. He made himself strong so he could protect Noct, with his life if need be. The sprawling eagle tattoo that takes up most of his upper body, the scores of hours he sat still, in pain, is a testament to his family’s legacy of service. “Everything I am is for you.” _

_ “I know.” Noctis is silent for another minute, then, “Come closer.” _

_ Anything for Noctis. Gladio scoots closer, shuffling on his knees, barely flinching at the carpet burn; as he does, Noctis uncrosses his legs and plants both feet firmly on the floor, spreading his slender legs wide. Gladio can see the thick bulge settled neatly between them, and a primal heat rushes through him, relentless. He shivers, looking up to Noct’s face again. The prince has a wicked grin on his face, and his blue eyes are slowly fading to black, pupils blown wide with lust. Gladio imagines that he himself looks the same way—it’s hard not to be aroused in the presence of such dominance and power. _

_ “Like what you see?” _

_ “Always.” _

_ “It’s your fault, anyway,” Noctis says, gesturing vaguely to his groin. “Man like you, naked except for a collar, on his knees in front of me? We’re not alone, y’know. The glaives down there, I’ve commanded them to stay. And anyone else could walk in here. What would they say, the council, if they witnessed the great Gladiolus Amicitia sucking cock like a whore?” _

_ A strangled noise rips from Gladio’s throat. “Don’t care what they think,” he gruffs. “I’m loyal to you, not them. Don’t care how they see me.” _

_ Noctis laughs. “They should be so lucky to see you like this. Such power, stature, and dominance—and yet, here you are, as submissive as a trained dog.” _

_ “Yes.” Gladio smiles. There’s no malice in the comparison. It’s true—he submits to one man only, and willingly, at that. _

_ “Good. I’m glad you remember your place.” Noctis shifts, and finally moves to untuck his black dress shirt. He fumbles with his belt, trouser buttons, pushing them and his underwear down to the tops of his soft, supple thighs. His thick cock springs free and he grunts in satisfaction. _

_Gladio doesn’t need to be told what to do now. He plants his large hands on the legs of his commander, and takes him to the hilt_.

Gladio bolts up in a cold sweat as the details of the last few minutes of the dream swirl around in his foggy mind. The digital clock on his dresser reads 3 AM, but Gladio feels like he hasn’t slept a wink. His heart is pounding, blood running hot with the erotic scenario his subconscious has just tortured him with. He feels that he’s hard as iron between his legs; he groans as he throws off the covers and stumbles to the bathroom. Thankful that he’s got his own little apartment—two floors down from Noct’s—he grunts in pleasure as he turns on the hot water and takes his aching cock in his hand, moaning Noct’s name and getting himself off in record time. He soaps himself clean, then finishes off with cold water to douse any further physical reactions.

It’s only the first week of May, one month since his birthday. According to his dad, Regis will tell Noctis about “the tradition” on his 19th birthday, at the end of August.

One month down, four to go.

Gladio sighs heavily as he gets back into bed.

He’s absolutely, completely  _fucked_.


	4. Chapter 4

_May 15_ _th_

Gladio wakes up late one Sunday morning, and he feels...strange. His head feels foggy, which is _not_ a good space for the prince’s shield to be in. He thinks about driving to the Citadel to maybe spar with his dad, or Nyx, but thinks better of it—he doesn’t even feel like being around people right now, which is weird, because he’s a people person to the core. But right now, he just wants to be alone. He tumbles out of bed and raids his kitchen for a quick breakfast before going into one of his spare rooms to work out on his own. 

He’d completely turned the large second bedroom into a private gym, complete with a treadmill, a weight bench and a rack with weights, a punching bag that sits in the far corner, and a pull up bar stand in the corner opposite the bag. The closet holds various equipment—jump ropes, kettle bells, yoga mats, boxing gloves, athletic tape, and most of his workout clothes, as well as a mini fridge with bottles of water and some sports drinks. Gladio relieves himself in the hallway bathroom and throws his boxers into the hamper, stretching as he pads into the workout room naked. He dresses in socks, sneakers, a jockstrap, and a short pair of exercise shorts that only come to his mid-thigh. He connects his phone to the wireless speaker that’s on the end table by the door, the angry beats of some heavy metal song filling the space. Tying his growing hair into a little bun on the top of his head, Gladio slides on his boxing gloves and begins to wail on the bag by the window, hoping that a complete circuit of his personal equipment will help whatever is ailing him. 

______ 

Noctis stares at his phone in confusion. He’d just gotten up and showered, and seeing that it’s Sunday, with nowhere to be, he’d decided to text Prompto to see if he wanted to bum around the mall, or maybe the arcade. Normally, Prompto was down for _whatever_ Noctis wanted to do, without question, but his reply today is definitely a first. 

_Sorry buddy! I_ _kinda_ _have plans today with Iggy. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow after work? You don’t have any meetings, right? Ttyl bro, luv ya_

Plans...with Ignis? Noctis doesn’t know how to process this information. Sure, Prompto’s entitled to his own life outside of Noctis dragging him around because he’s bored out of his brain, but...with _Ignis_? Noct has never met two people on more opposite ends of the spectrum. It’s...a little disconcerting, if he’s being honest. He texts Ignis. 

_My apologies_ _Noct_ _, I am indisposed for the better part of this afternoon and this evening. Unless you’re having a dire emergency, I will be unavailable. I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time. Perhaps the new game you started last week, when I was trying to get you to collaborate with me on the new city planning project? I give you unequivocal leave to fry your brain as much as you desire today. You have food in the fridge, all you need do is heat it up in the microwave. I shall speak with you later tonight. Ciao_

Noctis is dumbfounded. What could Prompto and Ignis possibly be doing without him? He shoots Gladio a text, but there’s no answer. Undeterred, he makes himself a quick sandwich and eats it in three bites, chasing it down with a bottle of flat soda that’s been on his kitchen counter since yesterday. He grabs his apartment key and his wallet and makes his way down the elevator to Gladio’s floor. 

_______

It takes five knocks before Gladio realizes that the pounding he’s hearing isn’t part of the death metal tune that’s blaring from his phone. He sighs, a little annoyed that he’s being interrupted in the middle of his workout, but he pauses the music and wipes his face with a towel, slinging it around his neck as he goes to the door. 

The scene that unfolds before Noctis could be straight out of a cheap porno—he would know, he’s watched enough of them. Gladio’s standing there in the most sinfully tight pair of athletic shorts he’s ever laid eyes on, sweat dripping down his chiseled chest and abs, tanned body all flushed, hair up in an oddly cute man bun. The realization that his shield and longtime friend is a wet dream has been slowly creeping up on Noctis for several months now, but he feels himself go from zero to a hundred in about a millisecond. Normally, this is the part where the guy in Noct’s position says something cheesy like _I’m here for private exercise lessons, daddy,_ and then the two men fuck on the weight bench—but instead, Noctis snaps his jaw shut (was his mouth open for too long? Did Gladio notice?) and grumps, “Prompto and Ignis are hanging out. Without me.” 

Noctis is kinda the last person Gladio expected to see—or, honestly, _wanted_ to see. He has a feeling that his mood today is somehow related to Noctis and the fact that there’s some unnamed tension between them, and more than a schoolgirl crush on his end. Gladio thought that maybe a full twenty-four hours without seeing his prince would help him settle down, but the Astrals see fit to torture him specifically today. (He can hear Ifrit now: “Fuck Gladiolus Amicitia in particular.”) He stares at Noct for a minute, processing his words and his sour mood. 

He shrugs. “They’re adults, Noct.” 

“I _know_ , but...what could they possibly have to say to each other. They’ve never hung out without me before? It’s kinda weirding me out.” He sighs, trying not to look at the grayscale eagle head that’s resting on Gladio’s pec, right above his left nipple (which is dusky and perfect and is about to give Noctis an oral fixation), and drags his eyes up to Gladio’s concerned face. “D’ya think they’re...dating?” Gods, if it feels weird to think, it’s even weirder to say. Noctis feels like he needs to brush his teeth again after voicing it. 

Gladio snickers. “Just ask them. And so what if they are? You’d be happy for ‘em, right?” 

Noctis thinks. “I mean, yeah I guess so. I mean Prom’s my best friend and all, and Ignis is...” He shakes his head. There are barely even words for what Ignis is to him. They’re closer than brothers. 

But Gladio seems to understand, and he nods. “Yeah, me too. Opposites attract sometimes, princess. But who knows? They could be in cahoots over something about you. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Gladio bites his tongue as soon as the words slip out. Noct’s head is more than pretty. 

But Noctis just takes it as Gladio’s usual teasing. “Okay,” he says, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Still weird though.” A beat. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your...whatever. Um. Can I...” 

“You wanna come in?” 

Noctis doesn’t say, _I think I_ _wanna_ _climb you like a tree,_ because he doesn’t know how yet, and nods. “Sure, thanks.” 

Gladio steps aside and lets Noctis in. The prince kicks off his boots and flops on Gladio’s couch, staring blankly at the television. 

Gladio shuts the door and looks at Noctis. “You wanna do somethin’ in particular?” 

The prince shrugs lazily. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter. Just didn’t wanna be alone. And with Prom and Specs doing...who knows what...” 

Gladio snorts, feigning offense. “Oh, _I_ see. Glad to know I’m third banana. I appreciate your honesty.” 

“It’s not like that!” Noctis whines. He cuddles a throw pillow to his chest. “You’re so mean.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Let me finish my workout, Prince Charmless, and then we can do whatever you want.” He motions his head to the remote on the coffee table. “See what’s good on the boob tube.” He turns, missing the way Noct’s head whips around to watch him walk away. 

Gladio takes his frustration out on his poor treadmill for another forty-five minutes before he feels like passing out. He cleans up his little gym, unplugs his phone, and makes his way into his master bedroom to shower and change. It’s also the perfect time to rub one out so he doesn’t accidentally get a boner in front of Noctis. He dresses in clean briefs, a pair of gray sweatpants, and a soft white t-shirt, and wanders back into the living room, guzzling a bottle of water. 

Noct’s eyes are glued to the sports network on tv that’s broadcasting an international deep-sea fishing tournament off the coast of Accordo. He turns, a little hurried, as Gladio enters the room and plops on the couch next to him. Noctis panics. Does Gladio always sit this close to him? Then he thinks—when was the last time he and Gladio vegged out on the couch together, alone? Noctis tries not to be disappointed at a more dressed version of his shield, but Gladio’s radiating warmth from his hot shower, and his aftershave is assaulting Noct's senses in a good-bad way, so he doesn’t say anything, and just leans his head on Gladio’s shoulder. 

Gladio feels a jolt of electricity run from his shoulder to his toes when Noctis leans on him. He swallows his feelings—Noctis is first and foremost his prince, his liege. Gladio’s there to help him, support him, and protect him. Noctis is feeling alone and weirded out by this out-of-the-blue Prompto and Ignis hangout day—Gladio understands that much. So he lifts his arm and pulls his prince closer to himself, only mildly paying attention to the fishing thing on television. He fumbles for his phone in his pocket and puts in a delivery order for some food for himself and his prince. 

Noctis hopes that Gladio doesn’t notice his spiked heart rate, but he comfortably settles into Gladio’s side, thankful that his shield is there to get him through this weird day. His last thought before he dozes off is that if Ignis and Prompto actually _are_ dating, then maybe he has a chance with Gladio after all. 


	5. Chapter 5

_June 9_ _th_

Noctis was actually really surprised when his dad approved his long weekend getaway to Galdin Quay with the guys. Ignis had found the perfect beach house, on the far side of the coast where there was less foot traffic (and hopefully little to no paparazzi), and so now they’re all packed into the king’s vintage Regalia and on the open road. The beach is only five hours away, but Ignis insisted that they leave early in the morning so that they could enjoy the afternoon and make the most of their stay—so it’s 10:30 in the morning, and they’ve been driving since 8:30. Ignis is at the wheel, with Prompto bouncing like a hyperactive child in the front seat. He’s never been outside of Insomnia, and Noctis had treated him to a new camera for the occasion so he could document the getaway, so needless to say, he’s beyond excited. Ignis has a soft smile on his face, every now and then flicking his gaze to the passenger’s seat, and Noctis doesn’t miss the quiet blush on his adviser’s face. 

Yeah. They’re _totally_ dating. Ignis even lets one hand off the wheel and rests it on Prompto’s thigh when the chipper blond eventually settles down and manages to doze. 

Noctis, on the other hand, is suffering in the back seat with Gladio. His shield is in dark jeans and a gaudy tropical-print shirt that he’d found on consignment. On anyone else it would’ve looked ridiculous, but on Gladio, it just makes him look like he lives on a tropical island and teaches surfing for a living. It’s really unfair, and it makes Noctis a little pissy. Even worse, Gladio has the shirt _open,_ because apparently his abs will disappear if they’re not on display. 

And Gladio’s just _sitting there_ , reading a thick paperback, one foot resting on his knee, relaxed and casual. It’s insane. He could be a model. An underwear model? A swimsuit model? Noctis would pay for a centerfold of Gladio, he thinks; but seeing him shirtless all the time is enough for now. The prince desperately wants to lean into him and nap, but he doesn’t wanna be weird, even though he and Gladio have been hanging out a lot lately—movies at Gladio’s apartment, food truck dinners, fishing at the lake. Noct’s head reels with the realization that maybe he and Gladio have been having _dates_ and neither of them realize it. He worries at his bottom lip and chances a side glance at Gladio. He’s got one arm propped up on the side of the car, book low in his lap so the wind won’t blow the pages, and his other arm just hangs at his side, hand resting on the seat, palm up. 

Fuck. It would be so, _so_ easy to slide his hand in Gladio’s. It’s so much bigger than his own hand. Noctis makes the mistake of imagining Gladio’s hand around his dick and then he has to cross his legs and think of fishing to reel back the arousal. 

Gladio looks over at Noct’s sudden shift. The prince has his arms folded, and one leg resting on top of the other. He’s been acting weird, ever since they kinda accidentally started to hang out more, since Prompto and Ignis are clearly a “thing.” He flicks his eyes up to the front—gods, they’re holding hands as Ignis drives, and Prompto’s turned to the older man, eyes bright and round as he hangs on every word. It’s so cute it’s disgusting. Gladio wishes he could do that with Noctis. Would Noct think it was weird if they held hands? Should they establish some sort of “thing” before Noct’s birthday, or are they expected to sort out relationship problems as soon as they’re legally expected to fuck? Gladio sighs, wondering if he’s getting ahead of himself. How do you even have relationship problems if you’re not even in a relationship? _The problem is that you’re_ not _in a relationship,_ something in his brain tells him, and he grunts, momentarily losing focus in his book. He sighs, looks back over at Noct. The prince’s head is dropping forward. He wants to laugh out loud—what a pillow princess, he thinks, which is a mistake, because then he’s imagining Noctis in his bed, ready and willing when Gladio comes home from a long day of training, passing out even as Gladio continues to take his pleasure in Noct’s tight little body. He shakes his head at the fantasy and snaps the book shut after he dog-ears the page, uncrossing his legs. This is getting ridiculous. 

“Princess,” he gruffs. “Gonna get a crick in your neck.” 

Noctis mumbles something. 

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and placing his hand on Noct’s shoulder. 

_That_ seems to get Noct’s attention, because the prince almost jumps out of his seat at the contact. He whips his head toward Gladio, tired eyes suddenly wide. “What?!” 

“Geez, Noct, calm down.” 

“M’tired, sorry” he says, yawning. He tries not to shiver with Gladio’s hand on him. 

“Lie down,” says Gladio, patting his lap. 

Noctis just stares, looks from his face to his legs—crotch—and then back up, narrowing his eyes. “What.” 

“Here,” says Gladio, shoving the novel in the back of the seat. He shimmies out of his tropical shirt and balls it up, putting it on his lap. “Lie down.” 

Noctis eyes the shirt for a few seconds before unbuckling his seatbelt and folding himself down on the seat. Gladio leans forward to grab his novel from the seat pouch, putting his stupid sexy body _way_ close to Noct’s face. The prince squeezes his eyes shut and breathes deep, inhaling Gladio’s overly-masculine smell of cedar deodorant and crisp, smoky aftershave. He curls in on himself and pushes his face into Gladio’s stomach. Gladio chuckles, muscles rippling with the movement, and lets one of his big long arms rest over Noct’s waist. Tired, horny, and confused, Noctis drifts off as Ignis continues the drive to Galdin Quay. 


	6. Chapter 6

_Daytime, June 10_ _th_

Gladio can’t do this. He just can’t. But Noctis seems so delicate—not in a physical way, because the prince is stronger than he looks, and he has muscle even though Gladio teases him about _not_ having muscle—but in an emotional way. Gladio knows that his childhood accident and recuperation in Niflheim, and the time spent in the wheelchair, turned a lot of things sour, and he knows that the wounds run deeper than just the rugged scar on his back. So he _can’t_. He _can’t_ confess his feelings to Noctis before he’s ready, before the prince has had time to even think about the tradition, if he even wants to do it at all. Gladio’s job is to be there for Noctis, sex or no sex. But goddammit, it’s so hard when everything that Noctis does is magic. 

They’re on the beach today. Ignis is in a chair under a giant umbrella, keeping watch over their cooler and beach bags, towel over his lap and book in hand, shades and sunhat on. He looks like a little old lady and Prompto’s been sighing after him all morning, even though he’s out in the ocean with Noctis and Gladio, goofing around. The poor boy had to layer on SPF 100, and it’s only been an hour, and he’s already red. Gladio and Noctis are wearing SPF 45 and they’re soaking up the sun like sponges, exotic features growing more and more handsome. 

“Prom,” laughs Noctis, swimming up to his best friend, poking at his ruddy shoulders. “I think you have twenty new freckles.” 

“Shut _up_!” Prompto whines, sinking deeper into the ocean. “I hate it here.” 

“That’s a lie,” Noct snorts. 

Prompto sighs. “Ugh, you’re right, but still. You don’t hafta call me out like that.” Prompto eyes him up and down. “What the hell! How come you have so much melanin?” He flicks his eyes over to where Gladio’s standing a little way behind them, hands on his hips, like a big sexy bulwark. “I’m not even gonna start on Fabio over there. He’s just not fair to _anyone_.” 

Noct’s eyes widen a little in surprise at Prompto’s assessment of Gladio’s body, and he follows Prompto’s line of sight. The sun is high overhead, shining its brilliant rays down onto Gladio’s chiseled frame. The man is in a fucking speedo, because _of course_ , because Noctis was born to suffer, he supposes. His abs and chest are shiny with sunscreen and ocean water, thick watermelon-crushing thighs akin to rocks that the waves are crashing against—immovable, rock solid. Noctis sighs. 

“So when are you two gonna stop dancing around each other?” 

“Huh?” Noct turns back to his best friend. “What do you mean?” 

“Dude,” says Prompto, reaching to pick a bit of seaweed out of Noct’s hair. “Do you not...” he bites his lip. “Do you not see the way he looks at you?” 

Noctis just tilts his head, like a confused cat. “What.” 

“Oh boy,” says Prompto. 

“Listen, don’t...don’t _project_...just because you and Ignis are going out.” He pauses. “Which, hello, can we talk about that?” 

Prompto shrinks back in the water, a little guilty. “Are you...mad?” 

Noctis shakes his head. “Not mad, just...woulda been nice to know.” 

“I’m sorry,” Prompto says quietly, genuine. “I didn’t want you to think that I was...taking him away, or...” 

Noctis shakes his head, and he knows that Prompto means it. If Noctis told him to give Iggy up, Prom would probably do it. He’s _that_ selfless, so Noctis really can’t fault him for wanting a little something to himself. “I don’t feel like that. Are you happy?” 

“I’m amazed at this miracle,” laughs Prompto, swimming closer to Noctis and hanging off of him like a monkey. 

“Miracle?” 

“That he likes me back.” 

“Psh,” Noctis hisses out. He brings his arm around Prompto and maneuvers him until he’s carrying him against his chest, the water making him weightless—but they both know Noct could carry Prompto in regular gravity, anyway. “What’s not to like about you, Prom? You’re amazing.” 

Prompto turns red—not from the sun—and ducks his face into Noct’s neck. “I’m not like Ignis,” he says, all shy. “He’s so cool, and he knows _everythin_ , and...” 

“And you two deserve each other, because you’re amazing in your own right. I already have one Iggy. I don’t need another one. I’m happy to have a Prompto.” 

“Um,” says Prompto as he fiddles with the hair at Noct’s neck. “Iggy says—he says I’m hot. When...when I shoot. The guns. With Cor, in training.” 

“Yeah?” Noctis laughs. “You kinda are.” 

Prompto blushes again, harder, and laughs against Noct’s bare skin. He wishes they could stay like this. Noctis ducks down to plant a fat salty smooch against Prompto’s cheek and his best friend laughs from deep in his belly. Prompto’s so easy with affection, and he’d gotten Noctis to open up a lot over the years—but Noct still has his reservations. He sighs, wishing he had the balls to go up to Gladio and pull him into a real kiss, like he wants to. Instead he lets Prompto float away, and the blond wisely swims back to shore to reapply sunscreen, Mama Ignis fussing over him and kissing every new freckle on his skin once he’s on the shore. 

Gladio whistles at Prompto as he swims by, just to fluster him, then turns his attention back to Noctis. The prince is in loud, fish-print swim trunks that come up to his mid-thigh, and Gladio feels caught on the shape of his legs—hook, line, and sinker, just like the sea bass that Noctis will inevitably reel in later. He dives deeper into the water and crests over the waves, swimming up to Noctis under the water—and then with all the skill that he uses in training, he grabs at Noct’s ankles and yanks, ignoring the yelps and getting Noctis to the position that Prompto had occupied not two minutes before. 

Noctis flounders and sputters, slapping Gladio’s chest as the shield rumbles out deep laughs. 

“You shoulda seen your face!” 

“You’re _fired,”_ growls Noctis, even as he slips his arms around Gladio’s neck and holds on for dear life as Gladio carries them further out to sea. 

“Try again, Princess You can’t fire me. I was literally bred for this job.” 

Something aches deep in Noct’s chest at those words. He feels hot all over from being pressed against Gladio, skin to skin—he looks ahead to the horizon as Gladio finally settles on a spot. Noct looks down—it's a dark blue, and he can’t see the bottom. 

“Can you stand?” 

“A little on my tippy toes.” He squeezes Noctis a little tighter and begins to tread water. “It’s good exercise.” 

Noctis hums and lazily fingers Gladio’s long hair that’s fanning out in the water. 

Gladio manages to keep breathing normally through divine providence as he paddles around with Noct in his arms. He’s a sucker for having his hair played with, and Noct’s fingers? That totally does him in. 

“You gonna fish later?” 

“Fuck yeah,” says Noctis, looking at the position of the sun. “Saw a pier near our house, quiet. Hopefully I can wrangle in dinner.” 

And instead of continuing that conversation, Gladio’s big stupid jock brain says, “Saw you and Prom messin’ around in the water. You kissed him on the cheek.” 

Noctis lifts an eyebrow. “Friends can’t do goofy shit? Besides, you whistled at him.” 

Gladio grins wolfishly. “What, you jealous? Want me to whistle at you too?” 

Noct’s answer gets lodged in his throat like a vegetable and he feels like he can’t breathe. “Dude, don’t be weird.” 

Gladio shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says flatly and dumps Noctis into the ocean, laughing. 

“Asshole!” says Noctis, diving into the water like a bullet and chasing Gladio all the way back to shore. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time skips in this chapter just to move things along. I'm sorry if it's choppy--let me know if I need to edit for clarification. We're edging closer...less than two months away till Noct turns 19! Woot!

_June 10_ _th_ _, Nighttime_

Ignis Scientia was a sneaky little shit. Gladio had seriously almost slapped him when they’d arrived at the beach house. The house sleeps six—two king beds in each room, with a sleeper-sofa that pulls out into a queen bed. Great. Ignis and Prompto had of course beelined for one of the rooms, leaving Gladio and Noctis to sleep—with each other—in the other bed. It’s fine, Gladio told himself. He’d cuddled up to pillows and had put as much room between himself and the prince as possible. They were all exhausted from the trip, and Gladio and Noctis had fallen dead asleep, missing the way that Ignis had taken Prompto apart for _hours_ in the room down the hall. 

They aren’t missing it tonight. 

Since they don’t have anything to hide, Gladio and Noctis have their door open, Gladio in the middle of his book, little reading glasses perched on his nose. 

It’s so endearing, Noctis keeps losing at the classic 8-bit console version of King’s Knight he’s working through on his Switch. Gladio’s even more tanned than when they came, hair up in a cute bun again, and something about the sight of him in warm, soft white t-shirt and gray sweatpants does something to Noct’s chest, making it tighten and burn. He feels himself drifting off, so he grunts and saves his progress (what little he’d made before he started looking at Gladio out of the corner of his eye), turning off the handheld console and placing it on the charger. Gladio pays him no mind, absorbed in his book, when a wanton moan emanates from the other side of the hallway bathroom. 

Noct’s ears turn red and Gladio slowly lowers his novel. 

“What the hell,” he mutters under his breath. 

It happens again, and there’s no mistaking the high pitch—holy beach balls, that’s _Prompto_. Following the series of filthy noises is an unmistakable posh accent—“ _I am going to drain you until you are incapable of making another sound_.” 

Gladio grits his teeth, gets up, and quietly shuts the door. “Shameless,” he mumbles. 

Noctis doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t asked Prompto if he and Ignis had fucked yet, but now he’s getting his answer. His ears are burning. He and Prompto had fooled around a little in high school, learning, touching, blowjobs, kissing. Noctis cared about Prompto a lot, but then something changed and they both fell way hard (ha!) for other people—the tall, charming, walking wet dreams that were Noct’s own retainers. Except, Prompto is getting what he wants. For all his anxiety and self-deprecation, Prom can be a BAMF, confident and sexy when he’s determined. It’s no wonder he managed to get under Iggy’s skin, even though they’re complete opposites (though, they are super cute together, Noct will admit that). 

He looks at Gladio and somehow manages not to make the same filthy moans Prompto’s making, even though he’s not being touched. His shield has discarded his shirt and is slipping on socks so his feet don’t get cold during the night. He turns off his lamp and flops back on the pillow, sighing. 

_It’s now or never,_ Noctis thinks. Besides, Gladio had held him in the water, hadn’t he? It’s okay to ask for this. He’s the prince—what good is some authority if he never uses it? “Gladio,” he whispers. 

“Hmmmm,” says Gladio, all sleepy and a little annoyed at the sex in the other room, because how is it fair that Ignis gets to have Prompto, and he himself can’t have Noctis? It’s a crime. 

“I’m...cold,” Noctis lies. He’s burning up, even though he’s in boxers and a thin t-shirt. He's afraid to go shirtless when they’re alone. 

“C’mere, Princess,” Gladio rumbles, turning to him and spreading those long, thick arms out towards him, inviting and safe. His eyes are closed. Gladio refuses to look at the image of Noctis snuggling willingly into his arms. His heart can’t take it. 

Noctis shifts closer and slides into Gladio’s embrace, trying and failing to quell his fluttering heart. Gladio wraps around him protectively as Noctis nuzzles into his shield’s soft, bare skin. 

This is normal, right? Just guys bein’ dudes. 

Noctis sighs. He's so fucked. 

_________ 

_June 28_ _th_

Ever since they got back from the beach, the four of them have been spending _way_ more time together, Prom and Iggy’s relationship notwithstanding. It’s so weird for them to not be together. Noctis has tried to work a little harder so Ignis doesn’t have as much to do, so he goes to meetings alone sometimes, without him, leaving the adviser to work on his online classes or other background Citadel work, or his training. In Iggy’s stead, Gladio’s been escorting Noctis to the meetings with his father and the council, standing stoically behind the chair in his Crownsguard fatigues, in a relaxed but alert stance, hands behind his back, amber eyes glued to the chaotic tufts of Noct’s hair. 

They’re in one such meeting now, the council seated around a long table, glasses of water in front of each of them, computers and files of documents littered on the table. His father sits beside Regis, close and protective. Gladio admires the soft way they look at each other when they think no one is paying attention, giggling like teenagers at private jokes. Two hours in, Noct’s head hits the table, followed by a snore. 

Regis jumps at the _thwack_ and looks at his son, trying not to laugh. “I see you’ve all bored the crown prince to death,” he says to the rest of council, causing them to murmur among themselves. He flicks his eyes up to Gladio. “Gladiolus, if you will. It seems Noct has had enough for one day.” 

Gladio chuckles and nods, coming up behind Noct and sliding his chair out a little, effortlessly lifting his fatigued body in his arms, nodding at the king and his father. “If you’ll excuse us,” he says quietly, bowing as he can while holding Noctis. 

Regis nods, along with Clarus, who gives him a knowing smile. 

Noctis snores softly against Gladio’s chest, breathing feather-light against Gladio’s collarbones. It punches him in the gut and leaves him breathless, starry-eyed. Noct’s face is so relaxed, soft around the edges—he's just coming out of boyhood, but he’s still so handsome, funny and kind and a pain in the ass, and Gladio loves him so, _so_ much. He makes his way to Noct’s old room upstairs, kicking open the door with his foot. He presses his lips to Noct’s forehead, lingering a little too long, probably, but he doesn’t care. He sets the prince on the bed and grabs a throw blanket from the armchair in the corner, covering him. He makes himself comfortable in said chair, pulling a book from the Armiger, and reads while Noctis sleeps. 

___________ 

_July 6th_

“Have you told him yet?” Prompto looks at Noctis across the sticky vinyl table. 

They’re at the old diner in downtown Insomnia, across from the arcade, stuffing their faces full of chicken tenders, chili cheese fries, and milkshakes. Ignis would have a cow if he knew. 

Noctis slurps lazily on the mint chocolate shake and looks at Prompto, narrowing his eyes. “Told who what,” he denies. 

“Dude,” sighs Prompto, lifting another greasy, cheesy fry from the plate. “You know what.” 

“ _What_ what?” asks Noctis, still feigning ignorance. What is this, twenty questions? He feels like he’s in a tv interview. Ugh. He hates those. “Prom,” he whines. 

“You’re incorrigible,” mumbles Prompto, eating. 

“Hot damn, you have been spending _way_ too much time with Specs. I’m barring that word from your mouth. National law. Prince’s orders.” 

Prompto pouts adorably and chews, face heating up as Noctis points out his borrowed vocabulary. “Well ya _are_ ,” he insists. “Bro. I’m talking about Gladio.” 

“Whattabout ‘im?” Noctis says around his fifth chicken tender. 

Prompto rolls his eyes, shaking his head, long blond bangs moving wildly with the action. “Have you told him you’re in love with him yet?” 

Noctis chokes and has to guzzle his glass of water to get the meat down. “Dude,” he croaks. 

Prompto’s just beaming at him, shit-eating grin on his face. “Hm,” he says, eating another fry with a flourish. 

“You’re the worst,” groans the prince as he takes several sips of his milkshake, squinting in the aftermath. _Brain freeze_. 

“Buddy, I’m the _best_ ,” says Prompto, victoriously eating another fry. “You two are incredible dancers, holy shit. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

It’s Noct’s turn to roll his eyes, even though Prompto’s totally right and he can feel his face all red. “Whatever,” he mutters. “It’s just, like...it’s weird, right? I mean I’ve known Gladio since I was a _kid_. Since _he_ was a kid.” 

Prompto shrugs. “We’ve known each other since we were kids too, and we still did all that stuff.” 

Noct blushes at the memory. Prom’s still cute, even though their hearts are elsewhere. He’ll care for Prompto for the rest of his life. That’s not changing, ever. “Okay yeah, but...but like Gladio was literally _born_ to protect me. He’s supposed to...to...” Noctis bites his lip. It’s hard to think about, but it’s the reality. Gladio’s already scarred because of him (not that it detracts from his handsome rugged outdoorsman vibe). Noctis finds himself tearing up without meaning to. “What if he actually _does_ die for me? What the fuck am I supposed to do then?” 

Prompto just looks down. “I don’t see how that matters right _now_ ,” he says softly. “Better to know and love each other now while you’re still alive, right? Make the most of it.” 

Noctis feels like he’s having a panic attack the more he thinks about Gladio dying at his feet, giving up his life for royalty. He shakes his head, pressing the heels of hands to his eyes. 

“Besides, you wouldn’t let him die, right? Isn’t that why he’s been pounding your ass into the ground all these years? So that you’re strong enough to defend yourself? Who says you can’t protect him as much as he protects you?” Prompto slides from the opposite booth and sits next to Noctis, putting his arms around him while the prince has a meltdown into his shirt. 

The tears eventually dry up and Noctis just stays wrapped in his best friend’s arms, thinking about what Prompto said. That’s exactly why Gladio’s been on his ass ever since Noctis could hold a sword without falling over—Gladio had been molding him into someone that could fight and fend for himself, should Gladio fulfill his duty. But Noctis decides not to let this sacrificial lamb thing be a one-way street. He vows to himself to work even harder, to make Gladio proud—so that he won’t have to see his shield—the love of his life—die in his arms. He refuses to bow to fate and convention and titles. That’s never been his way, and it never will be. 


	8. Chapter 8

They really are dancing. 

And not just mentally, or with words, or with weird gestures that would seem fitting for an actual couple—no. Today, Noctis and Gladio are taking this to a physical level, in one of the smaller training rooms in the Citadel. Both are dressed in tight athletic leggings and nothing else—both bodies on display, tantalizing the other, short and tall, a pair of opposites, yet, connected by the red thread of fate. Gladio’s hair is tied into a low ponytail; Noct’s hair is slicked back with a terry cloth black headband. It’s been a while since they practiced hand to hand combat with one another, and neither are really feeling steel weapons today, anyway. 

Gladio crouches low, eyeing Noct like he’s prize prey, settling into a fighting stance. There are no rules here, just mixed martial arts however you please. It's a silent understanding between them—there's no need to talk, or do anything. They don’t even need to think. 

Noctis lunges first, warping high into the air—Gladio's always been impressed that he manages to do it without throwing a sword—and appearing above Gladio, legs ready to kick him in the chest. Gladio’s a hair faster, though, and catches Noct’s soft white ankle—he dreams about kissing it, is that weird?--and spins the prince away from him. 

Noctis lands on his feet, like a big cat, blue eyes shining bright and round at Gladio’s prowess. His toes barely touch the mat, and he uses the momentum to lunge again at his shield, ready to roundhouse kick him his big, stupid, beautiful head. 

Gladio smirks and ducks, thumping Noctis on the back and sending him stumbling away. Noctis grumbles, huffs, but doesn’t give up. He turns and levels his intense stare at Gladio. The big oaf is just standing there, barely breaking a sweat, while Noctis is getting worked up already. Gladio widens his stance again, folds one arm behind his back, and reaches his other arm out straight in front of him, beckoning Noctis forward with four fingers. 

Noct licks his lips quickly, idly thinking of those four long, thick fingers pushing inside of him, and returns his shield’s grin. He settles into his own stance and stays, waiting for Gladio to come forward. He juts his chin out in a challenge, opening his mouth just slightly, letting his tongue drag slowly across his bottom lip. He inhales sharply when he sees Gladio’s pupils dilate. 

Damn, Noctis plays dirty. Gladio darts forward, swiping at Noctis with a powerful reach, but Noctis blocks it with his arms up in front of his face, spinning to try to land a swift kick in Gladio’s side. He connects, but he’s too slow to follow through, and Gladio is grabbing his leg and trying to spin him to the floor again. He grips Noct’s slender calf hard, surprised at the defined muscle he feels through the leggings. 

That split second is all Noct needs to summon his core strength and do a crunch in mid-air, bringing his other leg up and connecting it to Gladio’s neck, using _just_ enough force to topple Gladio over. With a grunt, Gladio goes down, but not without grabbing Noct’s other leg and throwing him backwards. He gets up, barely righting himself before the prince is lunging at him again, throwing a mean right hook in his personal space. 

Gladio knocks his hand away but Noct is relentless, attacking again with his left hand. He continues to get Gladio on the defensive, but the taller man hasn’t let him land a punch yet. Gladio burns with the weight of Noct’s fierce gaze. It’s like a challenge, a challenge so much more important than the petty sparring they’re doing now. He gets lost in those deep pools of blue, knowing that he dove into them a long time ago and never resurfaced. 

Noctis is more than a job to him, more than just another prince in a long line of princes and kings that have been served by Amicitias before him, before his father and before his grandfather, back and back and back. Gladio would devote his life to Noctis under any circumstance, even if Noct were just some regular guy on the street. But oh, the _power_ thrumming through his compact body, strong and ancient and magical—it's overwhelming to Gladio. As Noctis continues to throw punches, their feet dancing so easily around each other, Gladio avoiding him just barely—dodge left, duck right, parry with your left forearm, now the right one—is a testament to how strong Noctis is, even if he doesn’t look the part. His eyes flash red, and Gladio gulps, fumbles—Noctis reels back and throws everything he has into the punch. Gladio raises an open palm at the last second and catches his fist, squeezing his large hand around Noct’s smaller one. 

Noctis grits his teeth and backs away. Gladio exhales from the fight, so close to having Noctis actually give him a black eye. The prince pads a few feet away, and then turns. His shoulders slump a little, and Gladio snaps his gaze from where it’d been settled on the mangled, scarred flesh of his slender back up to Noct’s eyes. The prince cocks his head at Gladio and settles into a familiar stance. 

Gladio understands immediately. He pads up to the prince and mirrors his body. They lock hands and begin to wrestle. Gladio gets the smaller man in a chokehold almost immediately, but not tight enough to really do much damage. Noctis struggles for a moment before summoning some reservoir of inner strength, kicking his legs up and vaulting over Gladio, landing free just behind him. 

Gladio laughs and turns, and doesn’t even put up resistance when Noctis wrestles him to the ground, pins his arms above his head, and straddles his waist. 

“Quit laughing,” Noctis spits, the first words spoken in almost an hour. 

“Sorry,” Gladio pants, amber eyes shining fondly at his prince. “I’m just impressed.” 

“Hmph. You should be.” Noctis doesn’t move, hanging low over Gladio’s face, smaller hands around thick wrists, ass settled right above Gladio’s crotch. Noct himself doesn’t even try to hide the fact he’s half-hard from the adrenaline and from seeing Gladio in so little clothing. He grinds down on Gladio’s lower stomach, inhaling sharply through his nose. 

Gladio’s eyes grow wide as he realizes what Noct’s doing, the position that they’re both in. He can’t move—he's held captive by Noct’s deep blue eyes and soft baby face. “Hey,” he starts, but Noctis cuts him off with another roll of his slender hips. “Fuck, Noct...” 

“What are we doing?” Noctis demands. 

“Whaddaya mean?” Gladio asks weakly. He’s so whipped. He doesn’t know how he’s made it this long. 

“Us. I mean...what are we?” 

“Uh,” says Gladio. “I’m...I’m your shield?” 

“That all?” 

“Your friend?” 

“Hmph,” Noctis grumps, continuing to edge himself on Gladio’s hard body. “Do friends do this?” He leans down and ghosts his lips over Gladio’s--not quite touching, letting his breath warm the older man’s mouth. 

“What do you want to be?” asks Gladio, heart pounding wildly out of control, wondering if he’s dreaming. 

“I...” Noct hesitates, stills his body for a second, even though he’s fully hard and aching. “I don’t...I don’t know.” He looks away, embarrassed. Why is this so difficult to do? 

“I’ll be anything you want,” Gladio whispers. He really wants to just hug his prince, let him know that it’s okay, that they don’t have to do anything Noct doesn’t want to do, isn’t comfortable with. 

Noctis snaps his head back to look at Gladio, eyes wide, pink mouth open in surprise. 

“I will,” Gladio continues. “We don’t have to figure it out now, if you don’t want to...I’m not leaving you, Noctis. I am here for you, always.” 

Noctis bites his quivering bottom lip and nods, releasing Gladio’s wrist and collapsing into the shield’s chest as he cries. Gladio immediately folds himself over his prince, getting to his feet in quick, deft movements. Noctis wraps himself to Gladio’s front and weeps, and Gladio threads his arms under Noct’s rear to support him, bringing them both to the Citadel showers. The prince’s erection quickly fades as a stronger emotion takes over, but Gladio can feel himself semi-hard from Noct’s cheeky movements just moments before. He tucks his head into Noct’s neck and kisses him softly before setting him down in one of the shower stalls, undressing him with quiet reverence. Gladio washes Noct’s hair and his body, and then takes care of himself as the prince sniffles in the corner of the shower, confused and emotional. 


	9. Chapter 9

_July 27_ _th_

Noctis still doesn’t know how to define his relationship with Gladio, but the larger man doesn’t seem to mind following along with whatever Noct wants to do. If he comes to his apartment at 3 am because he’s had another nightmare and can’t go back to sleep, he allows Gladio to hold him on the couch until they pass out watching boring documentaries (sorry Iggy, they’re not _that_ great). When the four of them go out to dinner, he slides into the booth next to Gladio, and the shield will casually put his arm around Noctis, carrying on conversation like everything’s fine and this is totally normal. Gladio stands behind him in the meetings; Gladio always walks between him and the edge of the street if they’re shopping downtown; Gladio gives him all of his tickets at the arcade so he can trade them in for the biggest prize; Gladio, Gladio, Gladio. Noctis wonders if he’s reading too much into this, or if he’s just growing up and only now realizing all the little things his shield does for him. 

“Highness,” says Ignis late one afternoon as he helps Noct clean his apartment. Noctis is dusting his video game shelf and rearranging them in alphabetical order, and Ignis is in-between tidying up the living room and carrying clothes and blankets back and forth to the laundry room. 

“Huh,” answer Noctis as he slowly re-shelves the game cases. 

“Why don’t you speak to your father?” 

Noctis puts down a game and slowly turns, lifting an eyebrow at his adviser. “What?” 

“About this whole...whatever you and Gladio have going on. Perhaps your father can give you some insight on the true nature of a shield and Lucian royalty.” 

“Oh, uh. I hadn’t...” Noct scratches his head. “Hadn’t thought of that.” 

Ignis smiles. “I’m sure he’d love to talk with you. He's truly the only one who knows what you’re going through, after all.” 

Noctis nods and swallows hard, turning back to the pile of scattered video games. “Yeah, uh. Yeah. I’ll give him a call, I guess.” 

_________

“So,” says Regis, sipping his wine. “Ignis informed me that you have some questions regarding Gladiolus.” 

Noctis chokes on his mashed potatoes, thumping his chest and inhaling some water. “Uh, I...yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

“Easy, Noct. No need to be nervous. It’s just us here.” 

And it’s true. The large dining room is empty; there’s only one glaive outside the door, and that’s the only way in. Clarus is in his office just down the hall. The dinner is simple—roasted chicken and mashed potatoes. Noctis-approved. He cuts his chicken into chunks and dips it into the savory sauce on the side of his plate, chews, then sighs. 

“What if...what if I’m...having feelings, about him? I don’t know.” He shakes his head. This is so damn awkward. He's glad that most of his sex ed came from Iggy. 

Regis smiles and nods. “What kind of feelings, son?” 

“I don’t know!” Noctis bursts out. “That’s just it! I don’t...” He feels the tears coming in hot and he sniffs hard. “I don’t know how much of what he does is because of his job, or because...because he actually _loves_ me...” Noctis gasps after he says it. Is that what this is? Love? He looks at his father. 

Regis is wearing a pained yet empathetic expression. “The bond between shields and kings is a special one, Noctis, unlike any two people in the world. The Amicitias have served the Caelums for generations. However, only you and Gladio have a say in what your relationship will be. I have no doubt that Gladio _does_ love you, very much.” He pauses, wanting to tread delicately in the midst of his son’s distress. “Would you be willing to share what Gladio does that makes you feel so loved?” 

“He...” Noctis sniffs back the snot. “Sometimes he...like we cuddle on the couch during a movie. Or like, he’ll pick me up and hold me. He’ll put his arm around me at dinner out. And like, at the beach and stuff...we were just super affectionate towards each other...he held me in bed because I said I was cold--” 

“Were you?” Regis interrupts with a knowing glance. 

“What?” 

“Were you cold? It was June.” 

Noct shakes his head. “I wasn’t cold. I wanted an excuse to hug him,” he mutters. 

“Hm.” 

“But like...” The prince shrugs, defeated. “I don’t know. I mean we kinda talked about it the other day, in training, but...he said he’d be whoever I want him to be, but...I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.” 

“What are you afraid of?” 

Noctis stares into his father’s eyes and remembers the conversation he had with Prompto. “He’s supposed to die for me, right? That’s such bullshit.” 

Regis nods. “I think it’s bullshit, too.” 

The prince chuckles at his dad’s affirmation and curse. “I...I wanna get stronger. As strong as Gladio. I want to protect him as much as he protects me. I don’t wanna just sit in the background and make him feel like that’s his only purpose.” 

“By definition, it is,” says Regis. “Just playing Ifrit’s advocate. That is literally Gladio’s--Clarus’--job. To protect us with their lives.” 

“I don’t give a shit about hundreds or thousands of years of tradition,” Noct says plainly. “I...I _love_ Gladio. I’m not gonna see him die before me. Ever. I’ll protect him, too. His life is worth something, outside of the context of mine. He might be...he might be in my service, but he’s still a person. I’d die for him if I had to. I’d die for Iggy, for Prompto.” He shakes his head. “I hate this. I hate...I don’t want my friends to _die_ , dad. I want them to live. Not for me—with me. Beside me, always.” 

“Then tell them that,” says Regis as he takes another side of wine. “Whatever you and Gladio decide to do, know that I will support you.” 

“But is it—weird—to want to be...romantic, with him?” 

The king smiles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all.” 

Noctis worries at his lower lip until it’s raw, then looks at his father. “Did you ever feel that way about...about Clarus?” he whispers, like he’s almost afraid of the answer. 

“Yes,” Regis answers without hesitation. 

Noct’s eyes go wide. “Wait--really?” 

The king nods. “Clarus and I are very close. There is nothing that we don’t share. I love him very much. Like you...he is so much more than a royal bodyguard.” 

That makes Noctis smile—now he knows he’s not wrong for feeling this way. “Okay,” he says, heart lighter than air. He finishes his meal quickly, then jumps out of his chair and gives a tight hug to his father. “Thanks Dad,” he says. “I, uh. I gotta go.” 

“One more thing,” says Regis, then pauses. “Ah...never mind. I’ll tell you at a later date.” He waves his hand. “Go on, go have fun with your friends.” 

Noctis flashes him a huge, toothy grin. “Thanks again, Dad.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No ultimatum this time, but comments and kudos are always appreciated. XD Love y'all so much.


	10. Chapter 10

_July 28_ _th_ _, just after midnight_

It’s so late, and Noctis is simultaneously tired and feeling a rush of adrenaline. Gladio hadn’t answered his phone all evening; Noct has been back at his apartment for hours now, after he’d had dinner with his father. Ignis and Prompto have come and gone. He fidgets on the couch, tries to play a game, another game, a third game—but nothing holds his focus. _Finally,_ his phone buzzes with a message from his shield. Noctis shoots out of his apartment so fast, he doesn’t even lock his door, half-warping down the fire exit steps to Gladio’s floor. 

“Hey, sorry Princess, I was...” Gladio opens the door and doesn’t even get a chance to explain himself before Noctis is latching himself to Gladio’s front, making the larger man stumble back with an _Oof_ _._ Noct wraps his arms and legs around Gladio, burying his face into the shield’s neck. He smells like sweat, leather, sandalwood, and smoke, all assaulting Noct’s senses, making him shiver in Gladio’s arms. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” says Gladio, stumbling back and closing the door, wrapping his arms around the prince. He pets Noct’s back. “What’s wrong, are you okay?” 

Noctis feels tears well up in his eyes, but he’s not sad—he's so, so incredibly happy. He starts to laugh, moving to look Gladio in the eyes. He leans his forehead against Gladio’s and tries to breathe. “I’m--fine,” Noctis says. “More than fine, I’m...kiss me.” He hears Gladio’s breath hitch. “Kiss me. Do it. I know you want to.” 

“Noct, I...” 

“Kiss me,” Noctis begs again, and Gladio complies. 

Gladio’s head is reeling with the taste of his prince. Noctis kisses fast and hard, a little sloppy, like Gladio will disappear if he doesn’t hold him hard enough. It’s intoxicating. It takes Gladio a minute to realize that the moans between them are coming from _him_ , not from Noctis, and he can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed right now. He feels dizzy with the sparks of heat that are traveling south at rapid paces. He lets Noct set the pace, matching the push and pull of his prince’s lips on his own. Noctis gasps particularly loudly and pulls away for a half second, and Gladio uses that opportunity to surge forward and catch Noct’s tongue, sucking on it. 

Noctis _whimpers_ as he manages to pull away. He’s so hard it hurts. “Gladio, wait, I’m...” 

Gladio snakes his hand between Noct’s legs and gropes, causing the prince to whine and buck against him. Gladio _laughs._

_“Wait_ ,” Noct begs, and finally, Gladio listens. 

“What do you want,” he growls. 

Noctis doesn’t know. He wants Gladio everywhere, in all ways, and he can’t even think straight right now. 

“Here, let me,” says Gladio, and he carries Noctis to his bed and plops him down. Gladio strips Noctis of his sweatpants and underwear. 

Noctis blushes under the attention. He stares Gladio down, watching as his shield lovingly kisses from his knees to up to his inner thighs, nuzzling around his swollen sac. “Gladio,” he begs. “Please, Gladio...” 

“Ssssshhhh, baby. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.” Gladio’s sweating. His wildest dreams are coming true—he's getting to service his prince. He kisses around Noct’s cock, petting the prince’s hip with one hand, using the other to lift Noct’s foot onto his own shoulder. Gladio licks a wet stripe on the underside of his cock, causing Noctis to arch completely off the bed. Gladio rumbles out a deep laugh and pushes Noct’s hip back down. “Easy, Noct,” he purrs. 

“Quit...quit teasin’,” Noctis pants. “Fuck, Gladio, I...” 

Gladio doesn’t let him finish. He swallows Noct deep to the hilt in one fluid motion, burying his nose in the soft black pubic hair. Noctis screams loud, digging his fingers into Gladio’s scalp, causing the shield to moan around his cock, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure of Gladio’s tongue. 

Noctis is assaulted with the sensations of Gladio’s relentless sucking, teasing—he pulls off to only lap at the head, catching every bead of precum that Noctis has to offer before sucking him down fully again. Noctis knows he’s not the biggest, but his girth is thick, and it’s a wonder than Gladio can even get his whole jaw around him. It’s overwhelming—he has to mentally tell himself to crack an eye open and look at Gladio’s head between his thighs. It’s too much and not enough all at once. He pulls and pulls on Gladio’s hair, bucking into the warm, wet sanctuary of his shield’s mouth, but that only makes Gladio suck harder. 

Gladio gives his all into pleasuring Noctis. After all, this is what he was made for, wasn’t it? It feels so right, to serve his prince like this. He hopes Noct is enjoying this as much as he is. Gladio’s as hard as a rock and he’s usually not one for coming untouched, but he thinks he could come like this, easy, settled between Noct’s legs. He’s not giving up, giving his prince no respite. The weight of Noct’s cock is a grounding weight on his tongue, heavy and hot and salty. Gladio’s positively drunk on it. 

Noctis can’t last. He feels himself approaching the edge much faster than he wants. As much as he’s trying to drag this out, to revel in the feel of Gladio’s mouth around him, he can’t hold on. “ _Gladio_ ,” he groans. “Gladio, fuck, I can’t, I...” 

Gladio pops off and grips the base of his cock, staving off his release for a second. “Come for me, Noct,” Gladio rasps before diving back down around him. 

Noctis screams and comes less than a minute later, and Gladio gulps down everything that his prince gives. He shoves his own hand between his legs and comes hard in his sweatpants in just a few furious strokes, shaking and moaning while he’s still latched onto Noct’s groin. He lets Noct go finally, pulling off and moving to lie beside him on the bed. 

Boneless, spent, Noctis sniffs weakly as he molds himself to Gladio’s chest. He’s shaking, overstimulated, sensitive—and yet he’s never felt better. He vaguely registers the sticky front of Gladio’s sweatpants as he drifts off to sleep. He thinks he might hear Gladio whisper “I love you,” and he’s not sure, but he whispers it back anyway, right before he fades into unconsciousness. 


	11. Chapter 11

_August 14_ _th_

“So, Noct. What would you like to do for your birthday this year?” 

They’re all at Noct’s apartment, snuggled on the couch, about to watch a couple of movies. It’s Friday night, and it’s been a long day of meetings and training, royal business and busting ass with Cor and the glaives. Noct’s dead tired—he knows he won’t even make it through the first half of the movie. Good thing they’ve all seen this one before. He’s wrapped up in Gladio’s arms, with Prompto’s legs slung over him; the rest of Prompto is, of course, on Iggy’s lap. Ignis adjusts his glasses with one hand and pets Prompto’s hair with the other—the blond is practically purring as he wiggles with satisfaction at the attention. Prompto’s so cute, Noct thinks he might vomit. 

It registers in his worn-out brain that Ignis asked him a question. His adviser hits _play_ with the remote, setting it on the couch while turning, expectant. 

“Uh,” Noctis drawls. “Birthday.” He feels Gladio tense up a little, and he shuffles to look his shield in the eyes. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” says Gladio, voice tight. 

He’s not fine, Noctis can sense that, but he decides not to pursue it. He mouths the opening dialogue between the main characters as he thinks. “Um,” he says, finally. “I dunno. Arcade date with you guys?” 

“We did that last year, Highness,” says Ignis, chuckling at the corny action heroics on the screen. “Surely you’ll want to do something new?” 

_Do me,_ Gladio thinks but doesn’t say. He gives Ignis the side-eye—Ignis is _smirking_ at him. Evil, evil man. “Fishing?” Gladio grunts out. “Take your dad’s boat off Cape Caem and spend a few days on the water?” 

“ _That_ sounds cool,” says Prompto. “I got some bomb pictures at the beach—imagine the pictures I can catch out on the ocean!” 

Noctis idly thinks about buying an underwater camera for Prompto—something marine journalists use to capture the stunning pictures he sees in _National Geographic_. Prompto would have so much fun doing that. Plus, a couple of days of fishing, secluded, with no cameras, no press, no frills... He yawns, then nods. “Hey big guy, that’s a good idea.” 

“Hmmm,” Gladio rumbles out as he cards his big, long fingers through Noct’s hair. 

Now it’s the prince’s turn to purr and curl like a cat under Gladio’s ministrations. 

Ignis chuckles as he turns his attention back to the movie. “A fishing excursion it is, then. I shall confer with His Majesty tomorrow about our plans.” 

As the movie drags on, Noctis can’t shake the feeling that something’s eating at Gladio. They’ve only been in a real relationship—not just skirting around each other in some antiquated courtship dance—for two weeks, but there’s years’ worth of pent-up tension in their kisses, make-out sessions that leave them both breathless, grinding against each other, desperate like horny teenagers (well, Noctis supposes, he is still a horny teenager, but that’s beside the point). The point is, he thinks as he watches the well-worn classic on the television, is that Gladio won’t fuck him. Noctis has seen his shield naked—they'd given each other a mutual handjob in the Citadel showers just yesterday, but Noct’s mouth can’t help but water every time he sees Gladio’s dick. He’s only ever had fingers—Prompto's, during their “learning” phase—and a moderately-sized dildo up his ass, but he hasn’t even played with any of his toys in months. He wants the real thing. He wonders if Gladio’s scared because he’s older, worried that he’s going to hurt the very charge he’s been sworn to protect. Before he passes out, Noctis resolves to assuage Gladio’s fears once they’re alone. 

He wakes up two hours later, in his bed. His clothes have been changed, and the lamp on his bedside table is on, along with a glass of water and some packaged peanut butter crackers. Noct grunts, sitting up a little and taking a few long swigs of water. He senses rustling in the soft sheets behind him—Prompto's splayed out like a starfish, breathing even and heavy. He’s only in a loose t-shirt and boxers, sheets and comforter kicked to the side. He smiles with affection at his best friend and shakes his head, setting the water glass down and half-diving on top of him. 

Prompto lets out a sound like a dying balloon. “No more pizza for you, dude,” he mutters. “Ow.” 

“Oh shut up,” Noctis laughs as Prompto turns and latches himself to the prince’s chest, burying his head under Noct’s chin and breathing deeply. “Didn’t know you were staying over. Thought you were going home with Iggy.” 

“I fell asleep too, woke up with Iggy and Gladio tucking us both in,” Prompto murmurs as he wiggles against his best friend. 

Noctis sighs against Prompto, wrapping the blond in his arms and nuzzling into his soft hair. “Hey Prom,” he whispers. 

Prompto only grunts in affirmation. 

“Can I be frank with you?” 

“I thought you were Noctis?” comes the teasing reply. 

“Oh gods,” Noctis groans. “You’re worse than Specs.” 

Prompto giggle-snorts into Noct’s t-shirt. “What’s up, buddy?” he asks, more serious this time. 

“Gladio and I--” Noctis sighs. “I want him to fuck me. But he won’t. He only blows me, or we jerk each other off. He's only let me go down on him once.” 

“Hm,” says Prompto, yawning. “Have you asked him to fuck you?” 

“Not exactly?” says Noctis, voice small. “I kinda thought we’d just...end up there.” 

“Bold of you to assume Gladio’s a top just because he’s so much bigger,” Prompto teases. “Maybe he wants you to fuck him? Maybe he’s into the power dynamics. You guys should actually talk about it.” 

Noctis grumbles, but settles more into cuddling with Prompto and feels himself start to drift off again. As much as he hates to admit, his best friend is right. He and Gladio should actually _talk_ this out. Noct sighs. Why are relationships so complicated? 


	12. Chapter 12

_August 30_ _th_

Noctis wakes to a string of _Happy birthday_ messages from Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto, and he sleepily types replies. He lazily scrolls through social media, delaying getting up and showering and actually doing something today. Their fishing trip is in three days—of course there’s going to be some stupid gala or something tomorrow in celebration, full of stuffy nobles and raw vegetable plates and awkward dancing—but at least today, on his actual birthday, he can relax and do whatever he wants. 

His phone screen suddenly lights up with a picture of his dad—Noctis jumps, almost dropping his phone on his own damn face. He scrambles to push the green button to take the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, a little breathless. 

“Good morning, son. Happy birthday,” says Regis, calm and quiet. A pause. “Are you alright?” 

“I almost dropped my phone on my face.” 

Regis actually snorts a little. “Oh my, that certainly wouldn’t make for a good birthday start. Well, how about lunch with your old man? It's not every day you turn nineteen, now is it?” 

“Hng,” Noctis grumbles as he scrubs at his face with one hand. “Sure, dad, I guess. What time?” 

“Take your time, son, I’ll wait. Whenever you make your way to the Citadel is fine with me.” 

“What time is it now?” 

“Ah, hold on—Clarus, dear, what’s the time—one—one thirty, Noctis,” Regis addresses him again. “It’s one-thirty. You’re just waking up, hm? Shall I expect you in another hour or so?” 

Noct doesn’t know how to articulate the warm feeling he gets when he hears his dad call Clarus Amicitia _dear_. Have they always been this way and he just never noticed? Is he really that dense? Noctis thinks about when Gladio calls him _baby_ and he shivers. 

“Noctis?” 

Crap, he’s still on the phone with his dad. “Uh, yeah dad. Be there soon.” 

“Wonderful. How about lunch in the garden today?” 

“Okay. See ya.” Noctis hangs up and flops back on the bed. He feels like he’s on the cusp of understanding something really important, but he’s not sure what. He swipes to his _Favorite Contacts_ and pushes the icon with Iggy’s face on it. 

“Good afternoon, Highness. Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks Specs. Uh.” Noct swallows hard. “I’m having lunch with dad today. Can you pick me up?” 

“Of course. I’m already in the neighborhood. I’ll be over there shortly.” 

“Okay. Gonna get ready. Um, can we do something after? Maybe we can go to the sporting goods store and I can get some new gear for our trip...” 

“I think that’s a marvelous idea, Noct. See you soon. I’ll let myself in.” 

“Mmm, yeah, sounds good. Okay, see ya.” Noctis ends the call and drags himself out of bed and to the shower. 

It’s a beautiful day in Insomnia—it's not too hot, and white clouds roll lazily overhead, blocking the mid-afternoon sun. Noctis sits splayed out in the iron garden chair across from his father, their garden table laden with fancy teas and waters, a stand full of miniature cupcakes and fruit tarts, with huge club sandwiches on plates in front of them. They’ve shot the shit for thirty minutes now, and Noct’s about 75% of the way through his sandwich and the cupcakes on the tea tray, when his father takes a long swig of his sparkling water and clears his throat, eyes shining bright at Noctis. 

The prince gulps. He knows that look. He's about to learn something important. 

“You’re nineteen now, Noct.” 

“Yep.” 

Regis chuckles. “Oh, to be so young and carefree again, with all of my friends by my side...” The king trails off, distant look in his dark eyes. “You asked me about my relationship with Clarus.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m afraid I never divulged...certain information to you, when we last spoke about it.” 

“You told me you and Clarus loved each other very much.” 

Regis smiles. “And you love Gladio, you said. You two are...is it appropriate to say ‘dating’?” 

Noctis nods, a little nervously. “Yeah, I—guess you could say that.” 

The king licks his lips, then hesitates. “I--there is a longstanding tradition between the ruler of Lucis and their shield.” 

Noctis furrows his brows. “What kind of...tradition?” 

“To put it plainly—the king, or queen, is expected to dominate their shield. The shield is expected to submit, to show their unwavering devotion and loyalty.” 

Noct feels his face flush. _What are the implications of ‘dominate’ and ‘submit?’_

Regis smirks a little and looks at the bright afternoon sky as he talks, sensing Noct’s unspoken questions. “The shield is expected to give themself to the Caelum royal. Sexually.” 

Noctis gasps as though he’s been punched in the gut. His mind is reeling—first of all, how _dare_ Prompto be so intuitive and right about all of this—and second, why the hell hadn’t his dad—or Gladio—said anything sooner? “I...why didn’t you tell me this earlier, Dad?” 

Regis shrugs, staring at a flock of birds soaring over the palace grounds. “I wasn’t sure you were ready to hear such explicit information.” 

Noctis huffs and puffs out his cheeks like a pouting child. “You know I’m...well I mean I’m not exactly a virgin. I mean, Prompto and I experimented a little—and Gladio and I, we’ve, well... damn, this is awkward.” Noctis sighs. “So you’re telling me, you and Gladio’s dad--” 

Regis nods. “Whatever you’re thinking or imagining, yes.” 

_Gross_ , but on the other hand—Noct is glad that his dad had someone like that to take care of him after his mom died. “So like...you guys are a thing. Were a thing? Still are a thing?” 

Regis chuckles. “I guess you could say that we’re still a thing, yes.” 

This is...kind of a lot to take in. Noctis sits in silence for a while, mechanically tearing apart the black liner of one of the cupcakes on his plate. He clicks his tongue, and says “So you’re saying it’s like, my _right_ , to fuck Gladio in the ass.” 

Regis snorts and laughs out loud, a full-bodied laugh that shakes his frail frame and makes him wipe tears from his eyes. “I mean, yes, if you’d like to put it that way,” Regis gasps, still laughing. “Of course, only the two of you get to define your relationship. If you’d prefer that Gladio prove his loyalty some other way, there are court-accepted trials for the shields to go through in lieu of the king’s sexual domination.” 

Noctis shakes his head, probably a little too enthusiastically. “No, I mean, I’d prefer—augh,” he grunts, blushing again. “Does Gladio know about this tradition?” he asks meekly, avoiding his dad’s amused gaze. 

“Yes. Clarus told me that he broke this news to Gladio back in April, when he turned twenty-one.” 

About a hundred light bulbs click into place in Noct’s overwhelmed brain. Suddenly, the past five months make a lot of goddamn sense. He shudders with the knowledge of how panicked Gladio must have been, biding his time, letting Noctis dictate their friendship—their relationship, their roles as prince and shield—all while this knowledge was festering in his head. Noctis lets out a long groan and puts his head in his hands. He feels so _stupid_. 

“Son, are you all right?” 

“Yep,” says Noctis, still covering his face. He needs to find Gladio, and fast. 

Turns out his shield isn’t far—after lunch, Noctis makes his way to the Citadel training grounds, determined to burn off his nervous energy. He fumbles in his locker for the soft Ace wrap to put on his knee and some old gym clothes— _phew, reminder to have Iggy wash these_ —and makes his way into the gym. There are a few nobles and off-duty glaives in various states of working out in the vast field of gym equipment who nod and murmur greetings and birthday wishes at him, and he smiles politely and thanks them in return. His gaze, though, is laser-focused on his shield—shirtless and grunting under an impossibly large barbell as he counts his reps under his breath. 

Gladio’s eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see Noct approach—so he scrambles to lean up on his elbows when he registers someone straddling his waist with all their weight. 

“Hey,” says Noct, giving him a wicked grin. 

Gladio tilts his head and grins back at his prince. Damn, he’s so beautiful. “Hey baby. Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks,” says Noctis, blowing his bangs from his eyes. “You been in here long?” 

Gladio shrugs. “A couple of hours. Trained with Iggy a little while ago after he dropped you off. Lunch with your old man go okay?” 

“I--yeah,” breathes Noctis. “Hey, can we—can we talk?” 

Gladio licks his lips. He hopes that he knows what Noctis wants to talk about. “How about you go run for a bit and let me finish these reps. We’ll talk in the showers, okay?” 

Noctis pouts but he knows that once he loses motivation, he’s not getting it back—and his knee has been kinda stiff lately. He nods and leans down to peck Gladio on the lips—some whoops and whistles come from some of the glaives, and Noctis laughs against Gladio’s mouth and he shoots them the bird. 

An hour later, Noctis is soaked with sweat after his time on the treadmill. He and Gladio walk hand in hand to the locker room, and thankfully, it’s deserted. Noctis feels dead tired but good, loose and limber and strong, ready to shower and have an evening out with his friends. He can’t wait to buy all new fishing gear. He hopes the sporting goods store will have underwater cameras for Prompto, maybe some new camping supplies for Gladio... 

“So,” says Gladio as he peels off his gym shorts and jockstrap, followed by his socks and shoes. 

Noct’s brain sputters to a halt as he takes in Gladio’s nude form and tries to form words. “Gladio, it’s hard to talk with you all--” Noct gestures up and down. “Birthday suit,” he mutters. 

Gladio snorts and grabs a towel from the rack next to the lockers and ties it around his waist. “Better?” 

“Not really, but.” Noctis folds his arms and leans against the wall. “So uh. My dad and I had lunch. And um. He told me something.” 

“Oh? What’s up, Princess?” 

Noct rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Okay, can we be serious for five seconds.” 

“Sorry,” Gladio says genuinely. “What’s bothering you?” Gladio sits on the long wooden bench and pats the empty space next to him, and the prince obliges. 

Noctis sighs. _Use your words, c’mon._ _Gladio_ _knows._ _Gladio_ _is letting you set the pace of all of this._ “My dad told me about the tradition.” 

Gladio bites his lip and looks down at his bare feet. “Okay, cool. Is that okay with you? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” 

Noctis shakes his head. “No, I—I definitely want to, I just, um.” He sucks on his bottom lip and looks up at Gladio. “You were waiting for me? This whole time?” 

Gladio exhales slowly and looks at Noctis, drowning again in those impossibly dark blue eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I didn’t want to—to overwhelm you with the expectation, especially if you didn’t want it. Since you...well, we didn’t really know what we wanted, at first?” 

Noctis just stares at his handsome shield, mouth agape. “I never realized...” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for being so confused about things.” 

“Hey.” Gladio snakes his arm across Noct’s shoulders and draws the prince to his side. Kissing the top of his head, he sighs in contentment. “Our relationship can be whatever you want it to be. However you want me to prove my devotion to you, I’ll do it. Damn Noct, I—do you realize how smitten I am with you?” He chuckles deeply, rumbling from deep in his belly. 

Noctis feels his face go hot and he buries his head in his hands, groaning. “You’re so hot,” he mutters. “I can’t stand it.” 

Gladio snorts and withdraws his arm, coaxing Noct’s face from his palms and cupping his slender jaw in one large hand, planting a soft kiss on the prince’s lips, making him whimper. “We don’t have to rush this,” says Gladio quietly. 

“I know,” Noctis breathes, eyes still closed. He squirms, leaning his cheek into Gladio’s hand. “What about, um.” He slowly cracks his eyes. “The...the day before our trip?” 

Gladio nods. “In two days, then.” 

“Okay,” Noctis confirms. His heart is beating so fast. “Have you, um. Done it, before. Y’know. With a guy.” 

Gladio shakes his head. “No,” he says plainly. “But, ever since my dad told me about this, I...I bought some toys. So I’d be used to the sensation. So, I’ve been practicing for you.” 

Noctis shivers with the thought of big, dominant Gladio naked and pliant underneath him, bare and panting in pleasure. He's going to have to work on control so he doesn’t come as soon as he puts the tip of his cock in Gladio’s ass. 

“You okay?” 

“Just, uh. Thinking how hot you’re gonna be when I’m on top of you?” Noctis smiles innocently. 

“Fuck,” Gladio says as he leans down to kiss his prince again, losing himself in the taste. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's time, bitches

The overhead lights are off in Noct’s bedroom, the furniture and nerdy trinkets illuminated in stark resolution only by soft lamplight on the bedside tables, and the drawn-back curtains of the wide-open window that show the glittering Insomnian skyline on full display. Gladiolus Amicitia is on his knees beside the prince’s bed, breathing even and calm. He’s stripped down to just black boxer-briefs, the rest of his clothes folded neatly on the bed. Noct’s birthday was two days ago, and his dad told him to be ready for tonight, mentally and physically. He shivers in the cool air of the empty apartment, anticipation creeping up on him like the slow and steady beat of a song. He hopes Noctis doesn’t hate him for this, for this tradition. And he completely understands if the prince doesn’t even want to do this at all. But, oh gods, Gladio hopes so. He hopes that Noctis wants him; after all, he was born and bred to serve, wasn’t he? He’s nothing without Noctis Lucis Caelum. 

_I want to do this_ , Noct had said, but still—Gladio has his doubts, his own insecurities that he rarely shows. What if Noctis changes his mind halfway through? Gladio would respect that, but he can’t deny the fact that he would be disappointed. He exhales deeply, then inhales, trying to quell his racing mind, trying to remain calm with the yoga meditation techniques that he’s relied on so much for the past five months. He hears the front door open, then shut—he and Noctis had barely seen each other today, operating on wildly different schedules between training and meetings and errands, and hearing his prince so close, now that they’re finally alone, is almost overwhelming. 

Gladio keeps his eyes down as he hears Noctis enter the room and gasp softly. 

“Gladio,” Noct whispers. He pads over to the space between his bed and the large open window and sits on the mattress in front of his shield. Noctis does nothing for a long time but look at the mountain of a man kneeling before him, almost nude, submissive, willing. It’s more than he can take. He feels like he might have a heart attack. 

“Noct,” Gladio breathes reverently. 

Noctis feels all of the air rush out of the room at once. His chest feels tight, his throat is dry. He desperately licks his lips and manages to say, “Look at me.” Gladio gazes up at him with those wide honey eyes and Noctis is helpless. “You’re beautiful,” he says, because what else can he say? 

Gladio flushes red and shivers; Noctis watches the goosebumps rise along his strong, hard body, across his tattoo, down his chest, the tops of his powerful thighs. “Do I make you happy, Highness?” 

Noct’s first reaction is to kick him in the head for his use of title, but something else makes itself known—arousal. It’s his _right_ to lord over Gladio like this, even though he might hate it. Even though he’s worked hard and bitched to his friends about forgetting that he’s even royalty at all, Noctis has to admit—this is one of the best perks he could ask for. He feels himself growing hard the longer he and Gladio just gaze at each other. He licks his lips. _Well then_. If domination is what he’s supposed to do, he’ll give it the ol’ college try. He squares his jaw and stares intensely at his shield—his lover. “Undress me,” he says in the voice he only reserves for meetings and royal galas, when he has to impress the nobles. 

Gladio’s mouth falls open and Noctis fights every cell in his body to stay put and not lean down to kiss him. Gladio only nods and slowly strips Noctis of his socks, reaching up to unfasten his dark jeans and slide them down, taking a little liberty in petting his soft skin as its revealed. He stands and rids Noctis of his shirt, pressing a kiss to his head after said shirt is now in a crumpled heap on the floor. Gladio kneels back down and loses himself in Noct’s deep pools of blue as he hooks his thumbs under the band of Noct’s boxer-briefs. 

“Go on,” Noctis commands, and Gladio growls low and primal as he practically yanks off Noct’s underwear, letting his hard cock bob free. He tosses the briefs over his shoulder and Noctis laughs. 

Gladio stares at Noctis like he’s everything he’s ever wanted in life, eyes blown wide in lust, breath coming in stuttered and wrecked and they haven’t even _done_ anything yet. 

Noctis rises to his feet, hard cock jutting out proudly between his supple thighs. “C’mon, Gladio. I can’t fuck you properly on the floor.” 

“Not with that attitude,” Gladio quips back without thinking, and smirks. 

Finally, the tension is broken, charged air settling down and turning familiar. Noctis giggles and yanks Gladio’s underwear down with little pomp and circumstance, making the shield dance awkwardly out of the leg holes as he climbs on the bed, laughing. 

On his back, long legs spread wide, cock heavy up against his belly, pillow under his ass for support, Gladio gazes up at Noctis as the prince squirts lube onto his fingers, mouth open in slight disbelief. 

“Ready?” Noct asks, voice tight. His eyes flick to the box of condoms beside Gladio. 

“Been ready since April,” Gladio groans, already clutching the sheets. “C’mon, baby, open me up.” 

The words hit Noctis like a freight train and he swallows down a whine. He teases Gladio’s thick cock a little, first—he's so big, Noctis can’t wait to have their roles reversed some other time—stroking from base to tip in teasing, feather-light strokes. He cups his balls, full and heavy, rolling them around in his palm before dipping beneath them, teasing along Gladio’s perineum. Noct slides his slick fingers between Gladio’s cheeks and fingers around his furled hole, gently pushing one finger inside. 

Gladio arches off the bed and straight-up _whimpers_ , the obscene sounds going straight to Noct’s cock as he swallows thickly, petting Gladio’s hip and easing him back down onto the bed. “Ssssshhhh, Gladio, I’ve got you,” Noctis murmurs. 

Gladio closes his eyes and focuses on his prince’s voice—low, soothing, loving. He nods and spreads his legs wider, thankful that he’s so flexible for his liege's pleasure. 

Noctis opens him up on one finger for several minutes, pumping and feeling around until he feels Gladio’s prostate, and he pushes hard against it, making Gladio’s cock pulse even harder, pre-cum already beading at the velvet tip. Noctis adds a second finger, scissoring his shield open, watching in rapture as Gladio comes apart. 

Gladio’s universe has converged to a single point—his prince between his legs, fingering him open, making Gladio see stars as he tries to keep his back flush against the soft sheets. He’s grateful that Noct has some experience in this, even if it hadn’t been with him—he’s not sure he could take this any slower than what they’re going. By the time he feels Noctis withdraw two fingers and add three, Gladio’s flinging his arm over his face, panting. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard. There’s been few words, just the sound of ragged breaths and small gasps, moans and whimpers that have mostly—embarrassingly—come from him. 

“Noct,” he grits out, in the middle of the decently quick rhythm the prince has going in his ass. 

“Hm,” hums Noctis, the little shit. “You look so good like this, Gladio.” 

“Quit _teasin_ _’_ ,” he huffs. “C’mon, baby, please. I can take it.” 

“Do you want me, Gladio?” 

Gladio can only bite his lip and groan. “Please,” he begs. He feels Noctis withdraw his fingers, and then suddenly the prince’s light weight is on top of him, his sticky hand moving the arm Gladio slung over his face. 

“Look at me.” 

Of course Gladio listens. He wants to look at Noctis, always. Noct’s clean, not-lubed hand is stroking his facial scar, and Gladio peeks at his prince through half-lidded eyes. 

“Hi,” says Gladio, smiling softly. 

“You’re doing so well,” Noct encourages, as though he’s not affected the least bit by all this. 

But his words betray his body. Noct is flush against him, trapping both of their aching cocks between hard-won abs, and it’s all Gladio can do to stay still and not rut against him. 

“I love you,” Gladio manages. “I love you now, I’ll love you when we’re eighty. I’d love you if you were some normal guy on the street. My life is yours—always has been, always will be.” 

Noct’s face scrunches up in emotion and tears rain on Gladio’s tanned skin. He sniffles hard, snot gathering in his cute nose—he ducks his head into Gladio’s neck and sobs. Gladio wraps protective arms around his back, fingering the scarred skin lightly, rubbing gently as Noctis deals with his feelings. 

“You all right?” Gladio whispers a minute later as the smaller man goes quiet on top of him. His erection has flagged only a little, and from what he can feel, Noct is still very into what they’re about to do. 

“Y-yeah,” Noct says, drawing up and supporting himself on shaky arms as he looks Gladio in the eye again. “Sorry, I just--” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gladio purrs as he cups Noct’s cheek in one hand. “We don’t have to speak.” 

Noct shakes his head. “No, I... I love you too. So, so much. It’s taken me all this time to realize it.” 

“I would’ve waited another nineteen years,” says Gladio—and he means it. 

Noct bends down to kiss him messily, hungrily, determined to meld their mouths together for eternity. He trails his hand from Gladio’s scar down his neck and collarbones, pausing to tease at one dark, pert nipple, making the larger man groan and writhe underneath him. He continues down, petting over Gladio’s sturdy hips and thick thighs, finding their way beneath his full sac again, teasing around his stretched rim. 

“Are you ready?” Noct’s voice wavers, only a little bit. 

“I was born ready,” Gladio says plainly. 

“Beg for it,” says Noctis. 

Gladio makes a punched-out sound low in his throat and spreads his legs even farther apart for his prince. “Please, Noct. Take me. I’m yours.” 

Some shuffling, the rip of a condom packet, Noct’s mutters of _Oh shit_ as he strokes himself up with up lube, the press of cock to his hole—and then Noctis is pushing into him, the first few inches of his prince stretching Gladio wider than the modest toys he’d been experimenting with. It burns in the best way, and Gladio gasps as the pain slowly subsides into pleasure. He watches as Noctis guides his cock into him fully, hips flush against his ass, bottomed out within him. 

“Noct, baby,” Gladio groans. “You gotta move.” 

“Shit,” says Noct. “Fuck, Gladio, you feel...” 

“Amazing,” Gladio finishes, reaching one long arm up to cup Noct’s face again. “Yeah, I know. Now fuck me proper.” 

The prince braces his hands on the hard planes of Gladio’s stomach and begins to thrust. 

What Noct lacks in experiences, he makes up for in sheer stamina and enthusiasm. Noct doesn’t hold back, pulling out to the tip and slamming himself back into Gladio with unbridled power. Gladio holds onto Noct’s ribs, gripping his soft skin hard enough to bruise while the prince takes what’s rightfully his. Gladio’s hard as iron, cock bouncing wildly on his abs as Noctis assaults his prostate with every thrust. His every nerve is on fire, sparking to life even more as Noct’s eyes start to flash red, the potent magic within him threatening to escape his very bones. He’s lost track of all time and space. Nothing else exists, or needs to exist—only this, only them, their two bodies, melting together. 

“Gladio,” Noctis moans. He's so close. He doesn’t know how he’s held on this long. Gladio is a vision beneath him—tanned, tattooed skin, dark hair splayed out on the pillow, amber eyes wide with lust, chest heaving as he rocks himself back on Noct’s cock, matching the prince’s every thrust. His bigger, thicker cock is flushed red and angry, leaking all over his abs, jerking with the movements of their bodies. 

Gladio can’t think, can’t focus. All he knows is Noctis and the white-hot pleasure surging through him. His prince is powerful—beautiful—incredible. He feels himself throbbing with need, cock untouched for the hour they’ve been at this, waves of arousal cresting higher and higher, until-- 

“ _Noctis!_ ” Gladio screams, loudly, clutching desperately with sweaty palms at Noct’s body as he feels the cum shoot out of him, thick ropes all over his belly, some even making it onto his pecs. He can’t even think to touch himself, to finish milking his release, because faintly, behind the roaring of his own heartbeat reverberating in his own ears, he hears Noctis screaming his name and feels Noct’s cock pulsing, filling up the condom with stuttered jerks of his hips, until Noctis whimpers and pulls out, easing the condom off of his softening length and tying it, letting it fall to the sheets. He collapses on top of Gladio, spent and boneless, not even caring that Gladio’s orgasm is now smeared between them. 

“Shit,” says Gladio, petting Noct’s hair. “Fuck, baby, that was incredible.” 

Noctis hums sleepily. “Tradition fulfilled,” he mumbles against Gladio’s skin. 

Gladio rumbles out a weak laugh and crushes his prince to himself, rolling them to the side and nuzzling into those wild tufts of black. “You did so well,” says Gladio, voice raspy, shaking. “Fuck. You mounted me like a champ.” 

“Just doing my princely duty,” Noctis yawns, kissing Gladio’s chest. 

“We should shower.” 

“No shower. Nap first.” 

“Is that a royal decree?” 

“Yes.” 

Gladio doesn’t argue with the man who made him come untouched. He maneuvers them both beneath the silky sheets of Noct’s bed, drifting off into dreams with his prince. 


	14. Chapter 14

_September 3rd_

“Sssssshhhh, baby, don’t wanna wake Iggy and Prompto,” Gladio whispers in Noct’s ear as he kisses just below his earlobe, sucking a red mark into the sensitive skin there. 

Noctis bites his lip hard, wiggling in Gladio’s lap as his shield’s giant hands grip his hips. Ankles locked behind Gladio’s back, already-spent cock trapped between their stomachs, Gladio’s huge, throbbing length buried inside of him, Noctis feels full to the brim, pressure mounting and threatening to overflow. The gentle rock of his dad’s yacht threatens to lull him to sleep, even like this—naked sun-kissed skin against skin, halfway to burned; calloused fingers and sharp nails digging into Gladio’s back, holding on for dear life. 

“Gladio,” whines Noctis, burying his head in Gladio’s shoulder. He shivers as he feels his shield place wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, along his shoulder, dipping down to his collarbones. He rolls his hips in Gladio’s grasp, savoring the pleasure-pain of Gladio’s thick cock stretching him to his limits. With every lift-and-drop, Noctis feels the drag of Gladio’s cock along his inner walls—it's so hard to keep quiet in the tiny bedroom, especially with Prom and Iggy next door. 

“You’re so good,” Gladio purrs, running his big, rough hands along Noct’s soft skin, lifting Noct up and down when his strength falters. “Doing so well, Princess, taking my cock like this. Does it feel good?” 

“Fuck--Gladio—yes--!” Noct pleads as he bounces up and down. He opens his mouth and bites down hard on Gladio’s shoulder, struggling to keep his noises to himself. 

Gladio growls at the sudden pain and squeezes Noct’s ribs hard, completely taking over the rhythm as he impales the shorter man on his cock. Noctis nearly blacks out and sees stars as he shakes with a dry orgasm, feeling Gladio’s stuttered rhythm as he milks his release with Noct’s small, pliant body just moments later. 

It’s the middle of the night when Noctis suddenly jolts awake from some kind of nightmare—he can’t remember the details; all he knows is that he’s alive despite the crushing darkness of his dreams. He sits up, sweating, throwing off the thin sheets, chest heaving as he gasps for air and tries to realize that he’s not dying. He figures he must’ve shouted, because Gladio is fumbling with the small lamp and turning over to face him, drawing him in and surrounding him like a weighted blanket. 

“Hey,” Gladio soothes, rubbing his big hands on every part of Noct’s body he can reach. “What’s wrong, Noct? You have a bad dream?” 

Noctis sniffs back tears and nods, nuzzling into Gladio. “I dreamed—I think—I was alone, I...there was this big battle, and you guys—you all jumped in front of me, to save me, but I...you all were _gone_ , I was _alone_ , and, and...” Noctis sputters into an outright bawl as he claws at Gladio’s skin. 

“It was just a dream baby, I’m right here, we ain’t going anywhere.” 

“But that’s just _it_ ,” Noctis sobs. “You guys are...you’re _supposed to..._ I’m not going to let you _die!”_

Noct’s wailing is, of course, heard through the paper-thin walls of the yacht’s tiny bedrooms, because a bleary-eyed Prompto and Ignis are peeking their heads in the door, both littered in hickeys and in just their boxers. Gladio lifts an eyebrow and shakes his head in mock annoyance even as the other two crawl to the bed, faces twisted in concern. 

Prompto’s the first to waddle on his knees to the prince in Gladio’s lap. “Noct, buddy,” he says softly, petting that thick black hair. “It’s okay, you’re okay...” 

“Prompto,” Noctis cries, untangling himself and reaching for his best friend. He sees Ignis, poised at the edge of the bed, aching with concern, crying simply because Noctis is crying, and the prince loses it. “Iggy!” he gasps, reaching out, hand opening and closing in desperate grasps of air. 

They all wind up on top and under each other, a tangle of limbs on a too-small bed, but nobody minds. Gladio and Ignis frame the two smaller boys as Noctis clutches to Iggy’s front, with Prompto at his back, Gladio plastered to him so he can throw one big arm over both him and Noctis. They’ve all gotten Noctis to calm down slightly—at least enough to be coherent. 

“I just can’t bear it,” says Noct, muttering into Iggy’s chest as Prompto peppers the top of his scar with feather-light kisses. “I can’t bear you guys dying for me. I won’t allow it.” 

“Noct,” breathes Iggy, rubbing his arm. “While the sentiment is grand, you cannot run from your position, nor can any of us defy our fate. We are in your service, and are your sworn protectors. If the time ever comes to protect your life, we will do it. No matter the cost. That is the oath we have sworn.” 

Noctis sniffs back a gross amount of mucus and chokes, shaking his head. “No,” he says. “I can’t. I...I’ll train even harder. I’ll get as strong as you, as Gladio, so I can protect you guys, too. I want you as my friends, my—my brothers. I don’t want mindless drones protecting me because of some silly royal title. I never asked to be a _prince_ anyway,” Noct cries bitterly. 

Ignis just sighs and kisses the top of his head, looking across to Gladio. 

The shield looks absolutely heartbroken, big honey eyes brimming with tears as he stares at Iggy. 

Ignis sighs. “And yet, we wouldn’t have you any other way, Noct,” he says. 

“Yeah buddy, we love you just how you are,” whispers Prompto lovingly. “We’ll always be here for you. We _love_ you.” 

Noctis just sobs. “Still, I—I couldn’t bear it if—if you left me all _alone_ \--” 

“You’ll never be alone if we can help it, Princess,” Gladio soothes. “Just don’t go anywhere we can’t follow, all right?” 

Noctis sniffs and nods. 

Gladio smiles softly. “And hey—you want harder training? I’m sure the Marshal and I can work something out.” 

Prompto giggles, digging his long trigger fingers into Noct’s side, making him gasp and wiggle. 

“Ha--Prom—noooooo!” Noctis starts to laugh, writhing in Iggy’s arms. 

“Be careful what you wish for, Noct,” laughs Prompto. “Gladio’s gonna be knocking your ass around even more now.” 

“Hmmm, pretty sure he won’t mind,” Gladio rumbles, “if our earlier activities were any indication.” 

Prompto flushes red and laughs even harder, burying his face against Noct’s skin, forgoing the tickling. 

Noctis laughs harder, pulling Ignis as close as he can, relishing the feeling of Prompto’s laughs against his skin and the callouses of Gladio’s hand grazing his ribs. He’s alive right now, surrounded by the best people he could ever ask for—and he’s determined to make it stay that way, titles and traditions be damned. 

The yacht rocks slowly with the push and pull of the ocean waves, lulling the four men to sleep, with the promise of a new day just over the deep blue horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to just epilogue with quick and dirty smut and then the feelings came out I'm so sorry. ;-; FEELS TRAIN, ALL ABOARD! 
> 
> ANYWAY thank you guys so SO much for sticking with me, for commenting and supporting me even when I dangled a thinly-veiled threat in front of you. XD This has been such a fun concept to write in, and I've hope you enjoyed it as much as I have.


End file.
